THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 

Gift 

From  the  Library  of 
Henry  Goldman,  Ph.D. 
1886-1972 


u^ 


~\A 


P 


^(c 


5^ 


;  ^'^(T 


Digitized  by  tlie  Internet  Arcliive 

in  2007  witli  funding  from 

IVIicrosoft  Corporation 


littp://www.arcliive.org/details/ebbingoftidesoutOObeckiala 


36s  Xouis  JSeche. 


BY    REEF   AND    PALM. 

Short  Stories.     With  an  Introduction  by  Lord  Pkmbrokb. 
Tall  i6mo.     Cloth,  Ji.oo. 

"A  really  queer  little  book  of  languorously  picturesque 
yams  about  the  eternal  summer  life  of  the  South  Sea  islanders. 
They  relate  almost  entirely  to  that  facet  of  the  life  of  those 
islands  which  relates  to  and  reflects  the  loves  of  white  men  and 
brown  women,  often  cynical  and  brutal,  sometimes  exquisitely 
tender  and  pathetic.  They  must  necessarily  fill  a  large  space 
in  any  true  picture  of  the  South  Sea  Islands.  These  little 
stories  are  indeed  romance  in  an  entirely  new  form."— .5tfj/<j« 
Transcript, 


THE  EBBING  OF  THE   TIDE 


THE     EBBING 
OF    THE    TIDE 

SOUTH   SEA    STORIES 


BY 

Louis  Becke 

AUTHOR    OF    "  BY    REEF    AND    PALM 


PHILADELPHIA 

J.  B.   LIPPINCOTT  COMPANY 
1896 


stack 
Annex 


CONTENTS 

PAGX 

"  LUtlBAN    OF   THE    POOL "         .                  •                  ,                  .  ,1 

NINIA        .                    .                   .                   a                   .                   •  13 

Baldwin's  LOisi         .             .             .             .             •  37 

AT    a    KAVA-DRINKING          ,                    ...  63 

MRS.    LIARDET  :    A    SOUTH    SEA    TRADING    EPISODE                  .  83 

KENNEDY    THE    BOATSTEERER             .                   .                   .  9! 

A    DEAD    LOSS                      .                   .                   •                   .                    .  lOI 

HICKSON  :     A    HALF-CASTE                      .                   .                   ,  II3 
A    BOATING    PARTY    OF    TWO        .                     .                     ,                     .12/ 

"the    best    ASSET    IN    A    FOOl's    ESTATE "    .                    .  I45 

DESCHARD    OF    ONEAKA                    .                    .                   ,                   •  ^57 

NELL    OF    MULLINEr's    CAMP                .                   .                   ,  1 83 

AURIKI    REEF                      .....  I99 

AT    THE    EBBING    OF    THE    TIDE         ,                   .                    ,  2O9 

THE    FALLACIES    OF    HILLIARD    .                   ,                   .                   .  21J 

A    TALE    OF    A    MASK               ....  227 

THE    COOK    OF    THE    "  SPREETOO    SANTOO  "               .                    .  237 

LUPTOn's    GUEST  :    A    MEMORY    OF    THE    EASTERN    PACIFIC  245 

IN    NOUMEA     ......  265 

THE    FEAST    AT    PENTECOST                   ,                   .                   .  273 

AN    HONOUR    TO    THE    SERVICE.                    ,                   ,                    .  28I 


«  LULIBAN  OF  THE  POOL 


"  Luliban  of  the  Pool^ 

A  BOY  and  a  girl  sat  by  the  rocky  margin  of  a  deep 
mountain  pool  in  Ponape  in  the  North  Pacific.  The 
girl  was  weaving  a  basket  from  the  leaves  of  a  cocoa- 
nut.  As  she  wove  she  sang  the  "Song  of  Luliban,'* 
and  the  boy  listened  intently. 

"  'Tis  a  fine  song  that  thou  singest,  Niya,"  said  the 
boy,  who  came  from  Metalanien  and  was  a  stranger  j 
"and  who  was  Luliban,  and  Red-Hair  the  White 
Man  ?  " 

"  O  Guk  f  "  said  Niya,  wonderingly,  "  hast  never 
heard  in  Metalanien  of  Luliban,  she  who  dived  with 
one  husband  and  came  up  with  another — in  this  very 
pool ?  " 

*'  What  new  lie  is  this  thou  tellest  to  the  boy  because 
he  is  a  stranger  ?  "  said  a  White  Man,  who  lay  resting 
in  the  thick  grass  waiting  for  the  basket  to  be  finished, 
for  the  three  were  going  further  up  the  mountain 
stream  to  catch  crayfish. 

"Lie?"  said  the  child;  "nay, 'tis  no  lie.  Is  not 
this  the  Pool  of  Luliban,  and  do  not  we  sing  the  'Song 
of  Luliban,'  and  was  not  Red-Hair  the  White  Man — 
he  that  lived  in  Jakoits  and  built  the  big  sailing  boat 
for  Nanakin,  the  father  of  Nanakin,  my  father,  the 
chief  of  Jakoits  ?  " 


4  "  Luliban  of  the  Pool** 

"True,  Niya,  true,"  said  the  White  Man,  «I  did 
but  jest ;  but  tell  thou  the  tale  to  Sru,  so  that  he  may 
carry  it  home  with  him  to  Metalanien." 

Then  Niya,  daughter  of  Nanakin,  told  Sru,  the  boy 
from  Metalanien,  the  tale  of  Luliban  of  the  Pool,  and 
her  husband  the  White  Man  called  "  Red- Hair,"  and 
her  lover,  the  tattooed  beachcomber,  called  "  Harry 
from  Yap." 

"  It  was  in  the  days  before  the  fighting-ship  went 
into  Kiti  Harbour  and  burnt  the  seven  whaleships  as 
they  lay  at  anchor  ^  that  Red-Hair  the  White  Man 
lived  at  Jalcoits.  He  was  a  very  strong  man,  and 
because  that  he  was  cunning  and  clever  at  fishing  and 
killing  the  wild  boar  and  carpentry,  his  house  was  full 
of  riches,  for  Nanakin's  heart  was  towards  him  al- 
ways." 

"Was  it  he  who  killed  the  three  white  men  at 
Roan  Kiti  ?  "  asked  the  White  Man. 

"  Aye,"  answered  Niya,  "  he  it  was.  They  came 
in  a  little  ship,  and  because  of  bitter  words  over  the 
price  of  some  tortoise-shell  he  and  the  men  of 
Nanakin  slew  them.  And  Red-Hair  burnt  the  ship 
and  sank  her.  And  for  this  was  Nanakin's  heart 
bigger  than  ever  to  Red-Hair,  for  out  of  the  ship, 
before  he  burnt  her,  he  took  many  riches — knives, 
guns  and  powder,  and  beads  and  pieces  of  silk  j  and 
half  of  all  he  gave  to  Nanakin." 

"  Huh ! "  said  Sru,  the  boy.  "  He  was  a  fine 
man  ! " 

"  Now,  Harry  from  Yap  and  Red- Hair  hated  one 

*  The  Shenandoah,  in  1866. 


"  Luliban  of  the  Pool."  5 

another  because  of  Luliban,  whom  Nanakin  had  given 
to  Red-Hair  for  wife.  This  man,  Harry,  lived  at 
Ngatik,  the  island  oiF  the  coast,  where  the  turtles 
breed,  and  whenever  he  came  to  Jakoits  he  would  go 
to  Red-Hair's  house  and  drink  grog  with  him  so  that 
they  would  both  lie  on  the  mats  drunk  together. 
Sometimes  the  name  of  Luliban  would  come  between 
them,  and  then  they  would  fight  and  try  to  kill  each 
other,  but  Nanakin's  men  would  always  watch  and 
part  them  in  time.  And  all  this  was  because  that 
Luliban  had  loved  Harry  from  Yap  before  she  became 
wife  to  Red-Hair.  The  men  favoured  the  husband 
of  LuHban  because  of  Nanakin's  friendship  to  him,  and 
the  women  liked  best  Harry  from  Yap  because  of  his 
gay  songs  and  his  dances,  which  he  had  learnt  from 
the  people  of  Yap  and  Ruk  and  Hogelu,  in  the  far 
west  J  but  most  of  all  for  his  handsome  figure  and  his 
tattooed  skin. 

"  One  day  it  came  about  that  his  grog  was  all  gone, 
and  his  spirit  was  vexed,  and  Red-Hair  beat  Luliban, 
and  she  planned  his  death  from  that  day.  But 
Nanakin  dissuaded  her  and  said,  '  It  cannot  be  done  ; 
he  is  too  great  a  man  for  me  to  kill.  Be  wise  and 
forget  his  blows.' 

"Then  Luliban  sent  a  messenger  to  Ngatik  to 
Harry.  He  came  and  brought  with  him  many  square 
bottles  of  grog,  and  went  in  to  Red- Hair's  house,  and 
they  drank  and  quarrelled  as  they  ever  did ;  but 
because  of  what  lay  in  his  mind  Harry  got  not  drunk, 
for  his  eyes  were  always  fixed  on  the  face  of  Luliban. 

"  At  last,  when  Red-Hair  was  fallen  down  on  the 
mats,  Luliban  whispered  to  Harry,  and  he  rose  and 
lay  down  on  a  couch  that  was  placed  against  the  cane 


6  ''Luliban  of  the  PooL" 

sides  of  the  house.  When  all  were  asleep,  LuHban 
stole  outside  and  placed  her  face  against  the  side  of  the 
house  and  called  to  Harry,  who  feigned  to  sleep.  And 
then  he  and  she  talked  for  a  long  time.  Then  the 
white  man  got  up  and  went  to  Nanakin,  the  chief, 
and  talked  long  with  him  also. 

"Said  Nanakin  the  chief,  'O  White  Man,  thou 
art  full  of  cunning,  and  my  heart  is  with  thee.  Yet 
what  will  it  profit  me  if  Red-Hair  dies  ?  * 

" '  All  that  is  now  his  shall  be  thine,'  said  Harry. 

"*  And  what  shall  I  give  thee  ? '  said  Nanakin. 

"'Only  LuUban,'  said  the  White  Man  with  the 
tattooed  body. 

"  On  the  morrow,  as  the  day  touched  the  night,  the 
people  of  Jakoits  danced  in  front  of  Nanakin's  house, 
and  Harry,  with  flowers  in  his  hair  and  his  body  oiled 
and  stained  with  turmeric,  danced  also.  Now  among 
those  who  watched  him  was  Luliban,  and  presently 
her  husband  sought  her  and  drove  her  away,  saying  : 
'  Get  thee  to  my  house,  little  beast.  What  dost  thou 
here  watching  this  fool  dance  ! ' 

"  Harry  but  laughed  and  danced  the  more,  and  then 
Red-Hair  gave  him  foul  words.  When  the  dance  was 
ended,  Harry  went  up  to  Red- Hair  and  said,  '  Get 
thee  home  also,  thou  cutter  of  sleeping  men's  throats. 
I  am  a  better  man  than  thee.  There  is  nothing  that 
thou  hast  done  that  I  cannot  do.' 

"Then  Nanakin,  whose  mouth  was  ready  with 
words  put  therein  by  Luliban,  said,  '  Nay,  Harry, 
thou  dost  but  boast.  Thou  canst  not  walk  under  the 
water  in  the  Deep  Pool  with  a  heavy  stone  on  thy 
shoulder — as  Red-Hair  has  done.' 


"  Luliban  of  the  Pool"  7 

" '  Bah  ! '  said  Harry.  '  What  he  can  do,  that  I  can 
do.' 

"  Now,  for  a  man  to  go  in  at  one  end  of  this  pool 
here" — and  Niya  nodded  her  head  to  the  waters  at  her 
feet — "and  walk  along  the  bottom  and  come  out  at 
the  farther  end  is  no  great  task,  and  as  for  carrying  a 
heavy  stone,  that  doth  but  make  the  task  easier  ;  but 
in  those  days  there  were  devils  who  lived  in  a  cave  that 
is  beneath  where  we  now  sit,  and  none  of  our  people 
ever  bathed  here,  for  fear  they  would  be  seized  and 
dragged  down.  But  yet  had  Red-Hair  one  day  put  a 
stone  upon  his  shoulder,  and  carried  it  under  the  water 
from  one  end  of  the  pool  to  another — this  to  show  the 
people  that  he  feared  no  devils.  But  of  the  cave  that 
can  be  gained  by  diving  under  the  wall  of  rock  he 
knew  nothing — only  to  a  few  was  it  known. 

*' '  Show  this  boaster  his  folly,'  said  Nanakin  to 
Red-Hair,  who  was  chewing  his  beard  with  wrath. 
And  so  it  was  agreed  upon  the  morrow  that  the  two 
white  men  should  walk  each  with  a  stone  upon  his 
shoulder,  in  at  one  end  of  the  deep  pool  and  come  out 
of  the  other,  and  Harry  should  prove  his  boast,  that  in 
all  things  he  was  equal  to  Red-Hair. 

"  When  Red-Hair  went  back  to  his  house  Luliban 
was  gone,  and  some  said  she  had  fled  to  the  mountains, 
and  he  reproached  Nanakin,  saying  :  '  Thy  daughter 
hath  fled  to  Ngatik  to  the  house  of  Harry.  I  will 
have  her  life  and  his  for  this.'  But  Nanakin  smoothed 
his  face  and  said  :  *  Nay,  not  so  ;  but  first  put  this 
boaster  to  shame  before  the  people,  and  he  shall  die, 
and  Luliban  be  found.' 

"  Now,  Luliban  was  hid  in  another  village,   and 


8  ''Luliban  of  the  Fooir 

when  the  time  drew  near  for  the  trial  at  the  pool  she 
went  there  before  the  people.  In  her  hand  she  carried 
a  sharp  toki  (tomahawk)  and  a  long  piece  of  strong 
cinnet  with  a  looped  end.  She  dived  in  and  clambered 
out  again  underneath  and  waited.  The  cave  is  not 
dark,  for  there  are  many  fissures  in  the  top  through 
which  light  comes  when  the  sun  is  high. 

"The  people  gathered  round,  and  laughed  and 
talked  as  the  two  white  men  stripped  naked,  save  for 
narrow  girdles  of  leaves  round  their  loins.  The  skin 
of  Red-Hair  was  as  white  as  sand  that  lies  always  in 
the  sun  j  that  of  Harry  was  brown,  and  covered  from 
his  neck  to  his  feet  with  strange  tattooing,  more  beau- 
tiful than  that  of  the  men  of  Ponape. 

"  They  looked  at  each  other  with  blood  in  their 
eyes,  and  the  long,  yellow  teeth  of  Red-Hair  ground 
together,  but  no  words  passed  between  them  till  Red- 
Hair,  poising  a  great  stone  on  his  shoulder,  called  out 
to  Harry  :  '  Follow  me,  O  boastful  stealer  of  my  wife, 
and  drown  thy  blue  carcass.' 

"  Then  he  walked  in,  and  Harry,  also  with  a  heavy 
stone,  followed  him.  Ere  one  could  count  a  score 
those  that  watched  could  not  see  Harry,  because  of 
the  depth  of  the  water  and  the  darkness  of  his  skin. 
But  the  white  skin  of  Red-Hair  gleamed  like  the 
belly  of  a  shark  when  it  turneth — then  it  disappeared. 

"When  they  were  half-way  through  a  stone  fell 
through  a  fissure  of  the  cave,  and  Luliban,  who 
watched  for  the  signal,  dived  outwards  with  the  line  of 
cinnet,  and  came  behind  Red-Hair  and  put  the  noose 
over  his  left  foot,  and  Harry,  who  followed  close,  cast 
the  stone  he  carried  away  and  raised  his  hand  and 
stabbed  him  in  the  belly  as  he  turned,  and  then,  with 


'*  LuHban  of  the  Pool.**  g 

Luliban  and  he  dragging  tight  the  line  of  cinnet,  they 
shot  up  from  beneath  the  water  into  the  cave  and 
pulled  Red-Hair  after  them. 

"  The  people  had  gathered  at  the  farther  end  of  the 
pool  to  see  the  two  men  come  up  ;  and  when  they 
came  not  they  wondered,  and  some  one  said ;  *  The 
devils  have  seized  them  ! ' 

*'  Then  Nanakin,  who  alone  remained  on  the  top 
of  the  rocks,  called  out,  *  Alas  for  the  white  men  !  I 
can  see  bubbles,  and  the  water  is  bloody,'  and  he  beat 
his  head  on  the  rocks  and  made  great  grief  and  called 
out  to  the  devils  in  the  cave,  '  Spare  me  my  white 
men,  O  devils  of  the  cave,  spare  me  my  good  white 
men.  But  if  one  must  die  let  it  be  him  that  hath 
offended,' 

"  Ah  !  he  was  a  cunning  man,  was  Nanakin,  the 
fether  of  Nanakin  my  father. 

"  The  men  and  the  women  and  children  ran  up 
again  from  the  end  of  the  pool ;  for,  although  they 
were  greatly  afraid,  they  durst  not  leave  their  chief  by 
himself  to  beat  out  his  head  upon  the  stones.  So  they 
clustered  round  him  and  wailed  also  with  him.  And 
Nanakin  raised  his  voice  again  and  again  and  called 
out  to  the  devils  of  the  pool  to  spare  him  one  white 
man  ;  and  the  people  called  out  with  him.  Yet  none 
of  them  dared  look  upon  the  water  of  the  pool ;  only 
Nanakin  turned  his  eyes  that  way. 

"  At  last  the  chief  said,  '  Ho,  what  is  that  ?  '  and 
he  pointed  to  the  water,  and  they  saw  bubbles  again 
rise  up  and  break  the  surface  of  the  water.  *  Now 
shall  I  know  if  my  white  men  are  dead.' 

"  And,  as  they  looked,  behold  there  shot  up  from 


lo  "  Luliban  of  the  Pool.*^ 

the  water  a  yellow  gourd,  and  the  men  shouted,  some 
in  wonder  and  more  in  fear.  And  Nanakin  leaned 
over  the  edge  of  the  rock  and  stretched  out  his  hand 
and  drew  the  gourd  to  him.  Then  he  took  it  in  his 
hand,  and  lo  !  there  was  tied  to  the  neck  a  piece  of 
plaited  cinnet,  which  ran  deep  down  into  the  water 
under  the  rock. 

"  Again  Nanakin  called  out  to  his  men  who  stood 
crouched  up  behind  him.  *  What  shall  I  do  with  this  ? 
shall  I  pull  it  up  ?  " 

"And  then — so  the  people  said — there  came  a 
voice  from  the  bowels  of  the  earth,  which  said, 
*  Pull  !  ' 

"So  they  drew  in  the  line,  and  as  they  drew  it 
became  heavy,  and  then  something  came  up  with  a 
splash,  and  those  that  held  the  line  looked  over,  and  lo  ! 
there  was  the  head  of  Red- Hair,  wet  and  bloody,  tied 
to  the  end  of  it  by  the  ear. 

"  The  head  was  laid  upon  the  rock,  and  then  the 
people  would  have  turned  and  fled,  but  that  Nanakin 
and  two  of  his  priests  said  there  was  now  no  fear  as 
the  cave  devils  were  angry  alone  with  Red-Hair,  who 
had  twice  braved  them. 

"  Then  the  two  priests  and  Nanakin  leant  over  the 
wall  of  rocks  and  called  out  again  for  the  life  of  Harry 
to  be  spared,  and  as  they  called,  he  shot  out  from 
underneath  and  held  out  his  hands  j  and  they  pulled 
him  in. 

" '  Let  us  away  from  here  quickly,'  was  all  he 
said.  *  I  thank  thee,  O  chief,  for  thy  prayers  ;  else 
had  the  devils  of  the  pool  taken  ofF  my  head  as  they 
have  taken  off  that  of  Red-Hair,  and  devoured  my 
body  as  they  have  devoured  his.' 


"  Luliban  of  the  Pool."  1 1 

"  Then  the  people  picked  him  up,  for  he  was  weak, 
and  every  one  that  was  there  left  the  pool  in  fear  and 
trembling,  except  Nanakin  and  the  two  priests,  who 
laughed  inwardly. 

"  When  all  was  quiet,  Luliban,  too,  came  up  from 
under  the  water  and  dried  her  body,  and  oiled  and 
scented  her  hair  from  a  flask  that  she  had  hidden  in 
the  bushes,  and  went  back  to  Red-Hair's  house,  and, 
with  downcast  face  but  a  merry  heart,  asked  her 
women  to  plead  with  her  husband  not  to  beat  her  for 
running  away.  Then  they  told  her  of  the  doings  at 
the  pool. 

"When  ten  days  were  gone  by  for  mourning, 
Luliban  became  wife  to  '  Harry  from  Yap,'  and  he 
took  her  with  him  to  Ngatik,  and  the  favour  of 
Nanakin  that  was  once  Red- Hair's  became  his,  and  he 
prospered.  And  for  long,  long  years  no  one  knew 
how  it  was  that  Red-Hair  lost  his  head  till  Luliban 
told  it." 

•  •  •  •  • 

"  Huh  !  "  said  Sru,  the  boy,  admiringly.  "  He  was 
a  Fine  Man,  that  Red-Hair  ;  but  the  white  man  with 
the  tattooed  skin  was  a  Better." 


NINIA 


Ninia, 

Away  out  upon  the  wide  Northern  Pacific  there  is  a 
group  of  three  little  islands.  They  are  so  very,  very  small 
that  you  need  not  seek  to  discover  them  on  the  map  of 
the  Pacific  Ocean  ;  but  if  any  of  you  have  a  chart  of  the 
North  or  West  Pacific,  then  you  would  easily  be  able 
to  find  them.  Run  your  eye  up  north,  away  past  the 
Equator,  in  the  direction  of  China,  and  you  will  see, 
to  the  north  of  New  Guinea,  a  large  cluster  of  islands 
named  the  "Caroline  Islands,"  some  of  which  are 
named,  but  most  are  not — only  tiny  dots  no  bigger 
than  a  pin's  head  serve  to  mark  their  position. 
Perhaps,  however — if  you  get  a  German  chart — 
you  may  see  one  of  the  largest  of  the  small  dots  marked 
"  Pingelap,"  and  Pingelap  is  the  name  of  the  largest 
of  the  three  little  islands  of  my  story  j  the  others  are 
called  Tugulu  and  Takai. 

Now,  although  Pingelap  and  Tugulu  and  Takai 
are  so  close  together  that  at  low  tide  one  may  walk 
across  the  coral  reef  that  encircles  the  whole  group 
from  one  island  to  another,  yet  are  they  lonely  spots, 
for  there  is  no  other  island  nearer  than  Mokil,  which 
is  ninety  miles  away. 

But  yet,  although  the  three  islands  are  so  small,  a  great 
number  of  natives  live  upon  them — between  four  and 
five  hundred.     There  is  only  one  village,  which  is  on 

IS 


1 6  Ninia. 

Pingelap,  and  here  all  the  people  lived.  The  island 
itself  is  not  more  than  two  miles  in  length,  and  in  no 
place  is  it  more  than  a  quarter  of  a  mile  in  width  ; 
and  Tugulu  and  Takai  are  still  smaller.  And  from  one 
end  to  the  other  the  islands  are  covered  with  a  dense 
verdure  of  cocoanut  palms,  with  scarcely  any  other  tree 
amongst  them,  so  that  when  seen  from  the  ship  two 
or  three  miles  away,  they  look  exactly  like  a  belt  of 
emerald  surrounding  a  lake  of  silver,  for  in  their  centre 
is  a  beautiful  lagoon  surrounded  on  three  sides  by  the 
land,  and  on  the  west  protected  from  the  sweeping 
ocean  rollers  by  a  double  line  of  coral  reef  stretching 
from  little  Takai  to  the  south  end  of  Pingelap. 

There  are  hundreds  of  beautiful  islands  in  the 
Pacific,  but  not  any  one  of  them  can  excel  in  beauty 
lonely  little  Pingelap.  There  are  two  reefs — an  outer 
and  an  inner.  Against  the  outer  or  ocean  reef  huge 
seas  for  ever  dash  unceasingly  on  the  windward  side  of 
the  island,  and  sometimes,  in  bad  weather,  will  sweep 
right  over  the  coral  and  pour  through  the  shallow 
channel  between  Tugulu  and  Pingelap  ;  and  then  the 
calm,  placid  waters  of  the  lagoon  will  be  fretted  and 
disturbed  until  fine  weather  comes  again.  But  bad 
weather  is  a  rare  event  in  those  seas,  and  usually  the 
lagoon  of  Pingelap  is  as  smooth  as  a  sheet  of  glass.  And 
all  day  long  you  may  see  children  paddling  about  in 
canoes,  crossing  from  one  shining  beach  to  another,  and 
singing  as  they  paddle,  for  they  are  a  merry-hearted  race, 
the  people  of  these  three  islands,  and  love  to  sing  and 
dance,  and  sit  out  in  front  of  their  houses  on  moon- 
light nights  and  listen  to  tales  told  by  the  old  men  of 
the  days  when  their  islands  were  reddened  with  blood. 
For  until  fifteen  years  before,  the  people  of  Pingelap 


Ninia, 


17 


and  Tugulu  were  at  bitter  enmity,  and  fought  with 
and  slaughtered  each  other  to  their  heart's  delight. 
And  perhaps  there  would  have  soon  been  none  left  to 
tell  the  tale,  but  that  one  day  an  American  whaleship, 
called  the  Cohasset^  touched  there  to  buy  turtle  from 
Sralilc,  the  chief  of  Pingelap,  and  Sralik  besought  the 
captain  to  give  him  muskets  and  powder  and  ball  to 
fight  the  Tugulans  with. 

So  the  captain  gave  him  five  muskets  and  plenty  of 
powder  and  bullets,  and  then  said — 

"  See,  Sralik  ;  I  will  give  you  a  white  man  too,  to 
show  you  how  to  shoot  your  enemies." 

And  then  he  laughed,  and  calling  out  to  a  man 
named  Harry,  he  told  him  to  clear  out  of  the  ship  and 
go  and  live  ashore  and  be  a  king,  as  he  was  not  worth 
his  salt  as  a  boatsteerer. 

And  so  this  Harry  Devine,  who  was  a  drunken, 
good-for-nothing,  quarrelsome  young  American,  came 
ashore  with  Sralik,  and  next  day  he  loaded  the  five 
muskets  and,  with  Sralik,  led  the  Pingelap  people  over 
to  Tugulu.  There  was  a  great  fight,  and  as  fast  as 
Sralik  loaded  a  musket,  Harry  fired  it  and  killed  a 
man.  At  last,  when  nearly  thirty  had  been  shot,  the 
Tugulu  people  called  for  quarter. 

"  Get  thee  together  on  Takai,"  called  out  Sralik, 
"and  then  will  we  talk  of  peace." 

Now  Takai  is  such  a  tiny  little  spot,  that  Sralik 
knew  he  would  have  them  at  his  mercy,  for  not  one 
of  them  had  a  musket. 

As  soon  as  the  last  of  the  Tugulu  people  had  crossed 
the  shallow  channel  that  divides  Tugulu  from  Takai, 
the  cunning  Sralik  with  his  warriors  lined  the  beach 
and  then  called  to  the  Tugulans — 

^  3 


1 8  Ninia. 

"  This  land  is  too  small  for  so  many.** 

And  then  Harry,  once  the  boatsteerer  and  now  the 
beachcomber,  fired  his  muskets  into  the  thick,  surging 
mass  of  humanity  on  the  little  islet,  and  every  shot 
told.  Many  of  them,  throwing  aside  their  spears  and 
clubs,  sprang  into  the  water  and  tried  to  swim  over  to 
Pingelap  across  the  lagoon.  But  Sralik's  men  pursued 
them  in  canoes  and  clubbed  and  speared  them  as  they 
swam ;  and  some  that  escaped  death  by  club  or  spear, 
were  rent  in  pieces  by  the  sharks  which,  as  soon  as 
they  smelt  the  blood  of  the  dead  and  dying  men  that 
sank  in  the  quiet  waters  of  the  lagoon,  swarmed  in 
through  a  passage  in  the  western  reef.  By  and  by 
the  last  of  those  who  took  to  the  water  were  killed, 
and  only  some  eighty  or  ninety  men  and  many  more 
women  and  children  were  left  on  Takai,  and  the  five 
muskets  became  so  hot  and  foul  that  Harry  could 
murder  no  longer,  and  his  arm  was  tired  out  with 
slaughter. 

All  that  night  Sralik's  warriors  watched  to  see  that 
none  escaped,  and  at  dawn  the  hideous  massacre  began 
again,  and  club,  spear,  and  musket  did  their  fell  work 
till  only  the  women  and  children  were  left.  These 
were  spared.  Among  them  was  Ninia,  the  wife  of 
Sikra,  the  chief  of  Tugulu.  And  because  she  was 
young  and  fairer  than  any  of  the  others,  the  white 
man  asked  her  of  Sralik  for  his  wife.     Sralik  laughed. 

"Take  her,  O  clever  white  man — her  and  as  many 
more  as  thou  carest  for  slaves.  Only  thou  and  I  shall 
rule  here  now  in  this  my  island." 

So  Harry  took  her  and  married  her  according  to 
native  custom,  and  Ninia  was  his  one  wife  for  nearly 
fifteen  years,  when  one  day  he  was  quietly  murdered  as 


Ninia.  1 9 

he  lay  asleep  in  his  house  with  his  wife  and  two  chil- 
dren; and  although  Sralilc  wept  loudly  and  cut  his  great 
chest  with  a  shark's  teeth  dagger,  and  offered  sacrifices 
of  turtle  flesh  to  the  white  man's  jelin^  Ninia  his  wife 
and  many  other  people  knew  that  it  was  by  Sralik's 
orders  that  Harry  had  been  killed,  for  they  had  quarrelled 
over  the  possession  of  a  whaleboat  which  Harry  had 
bought  from  a  passing  ship,  and  which  he  refused  to 
either  sell  or  give  to  Sralik. 

However,  Sralik  was  not  unkind  to  Ninia,  and  gave 
her  much  of  her  dead  husband's  property,  and  told  her 
that  he  would  give  her  for  an  inheritance  for  her  two 
daughters  the  little  islet — Takai. 

And  there  in  the  year  1870  Ninia  the  widow,  and 
Ninia  her  eldest  daughter  (for  on  Pingelap  names  of 
the  first-born  are  hereditary)  and  Tarita,  the  youngest, 
went  to  live.  With  them  went  another  girl,  a  grand- 
daughter of  the  savage  old  Sralik.  Her  name  was 
Ruvani.  She  was  about  eleven  years  of  age,  and  as 
pretty  as  a  gazelle,  and  because  of  her  great  friendship 
for  Ninia — who  was  two  years  older  than  she — she  had 
wept  when  she  saw  the  mother  and  daughters  set  out 
for  Takai. 

Fierce-hearted  Sralik  coming  to  the  doorway  of  his 
thatched  hut  heard  the  sound  of  weeping,  and  look- 
ing out  he  saw  Ruvani  sitting  under  the  shade  of 
some  banana  trees  with  her  face  hidden  in  her  pretty 
brown  hands. 

When  he  learned  the  cause  of  her  grief  his  heart 
softened,  and  drawing  his  little  grand-daughter  to  him, 
patted  her  head,  and  said — 

"  Nay,  weep  not,  little  bird.  Thou  too  shalt  go  to 
Takai  j  and  see,  because  of  thee  my  heart  shall  open 


20  TSJinia. 

wide  to  Ninia  and  her  daughters,  and  I  will  give  her 
four  slaves — two  men  and  two  women — who  shall 
toil  for  you  all.  And  when  thou  art  tired  of  living 
at  Talcai,  then  thou  and  thy  two  playmates  shall  come 
over  here  to  me  and  fill  my  house  with  the  light  ot 
thy  eyes. 

So  that  is  how  Ninia,  the  widow  of  the  wandering 
white  man,  and  her  two  daughters  and  their  friend 
came  to  live  at  the  little  islet  called  Takai. 


IT. 


The  months  went  by  and  Ruvani,  the  chief's  grand- 
daughter, still  Hved  with  her  friends,  for  she  was  too 
happy  to  leave  them.  Sometimes,  though,  on  bright 
moonlight  nights,  the  three  girls  would  paddle  across 
to  the  big  village  and  gather  with  the  rest  of  the 
village  girls  in  front  of  the  chiefs  house,  and  dance 
and  sing  and  play  the  game  called  rCjiajia ;  and  then, 
perhaps,  instead  of  going  home  across  the  lagoon  in 
the  canoe,  they  would  walk  around  on  the  inner 
beaches  of  Pingelap  and  Tugulu.  And  long  ere  they 
came  to  the  house  they  could  see  the  faint  glimmer  of 
the  fire  within,  beside  which  Ninia  the  widow  slept 
awaiting  their  return. 

Stealing  softly  in,  the  girls  would  lie  down  together 
on  a  soft  white  mat  embroidered  with  parrots'  feathers 
that  formed  their  bed,  and  pulling  another  and  larger 
one  over  them  for  a  coverlet,  they  would  fall  asleep,  un- 
disturbed by  the  loud,  hoarse  notes  of  a  flock  of  katafa 
(frigate  birds)  that  every  night  settled  on  the  boughs 
of  a  great  koa  tree  whose  branches  overhung  the  house. 


Ninia.  2 1 

Sometimes  when  the  trade- winds  had  dropped,  and  the 
great  ocean  rollers  would  beat  heavily  upon  the  far-ofF 
shelves  of  the  outer  reef,  the  little  island  would  seem 
to  shake  and  quiver  to  its  very  foundations,  and  now 
and  then  as  a  huge  wave  would  curl  slowly  over  and 
break  with  a  noise  like  a  thunder-peal,  the  frigate- 
birds  would  awake  from  their  sleep  and  utter  a  solemn 
answering  squawk,  and  the  three  girls  nestling  closer 
together  would  whisper — 

"'Tis  Nanawit,  the  Cave-god,  making  another 
cave." 

Ere  the  red  sun  shot  out  from  the  ocean  the  eight 
dwellers  on  Takai  would  rise  from  their  mats  ;  and 
whilst  Ninia  the  widow  would  kindle  a  fire  of  broken 
cocoanut  shells,  the  two  men  slaves  would  go  out  and 
bring  back  young  cocoanuts  and  taro  from  the  planta- 
tion on  Tugulu,  and  their  wives  would  take  off  their 
gaily-coloured  grass-girdles  and  tie  coarse  nairiris  of 
cocoanut  fibre  around  them  instead,  and  with  the  three 
girls  go  out  to  the  deep  pools  on  the  reef  and  catch 
fish.  Sometimes  they  would  surprise  a  turtle  in  one 
of  the  pools,  and,  diving  in  after  the  frightened  creature, 
would  capture  and  bring  it  home  in  triumph  to  Ninia 
the  widow. 

Such  was  the  daily  life  of  those  who  dwelt  on 
Takai. 

•  •  •  •  • 

One  day,  ere  the  dews  of  the  night  had  vanished 
from  the  lofty  plumes  of  the  cocoanut  palms,  there 
came  to  them  a  loud  cry,  borne  across  the  waters  of 
the  silent  lagoon,  over  from  the  village — 

«  A  ship  !  A  ship  !  " 

Now  not  many  ships   came  to  Pingelap — perhaps 


Z2 


Ninia. 


now  and  then  some  wandering  sperm-whaler,  cruising 
lazily  along  toward  the  distant  Pelew  Islands,  would 
heave-to  and  send  a  boat  ashore  to  trade  for  turtle  and 
young  drinking  cocoanuts.  But  it  was  long  since  any 
whaleship  had  called,  and  Ninia  the  widow,  as  she 
looked  out  seawards  for  the  ship,  said  to  the  girls — 

"  'Tis  not  yet  the  season  for  the  whaleships  ;  four 
moons  more  and  we  may  see  one.  I  know  not  what 
other  ships  would  come  here." 

By  and  by  they  saw  the  ship.  She  sailed  slowly 
round  the  south  point  of  Pingelap  and  backed  her 
foreyard,  and  presently  a  boat  was  lowered  and  pulled 
ashore. 

Little  Tarita,  clapping  her  hands  with  joy,  darted 
into  the  house,  followed  by  Ruvani  and  Ninia,  and 
casting  ofF  their  wet  girdles  of  banana  fibre — for  they 
had  just  come  in  from  fishing — they  dressed  them- 
selves in  their  pretty  nairiris  of  coloured  grasses,  and 
put  on  head-dresses  of  green  and  gold  parrots'  feathers, 
with  necklaces  of  sweet-smelling  berries  around  their 
necks,  and  were  soon  paddling  across  the  lagoon  to 
see  the  white  strangers  from  the  ship,  who  had  already 
landed  and  gone  up  the  beach  and  into  the  village. 

It  IS  nearly  a  mile  from  Takai  to  the  village,  and 
before  the  girls  reached  there  they  heard  a  great 
clamour  of  angry  voices,  and  presently  two  white  men 
dressed  in  white  and  carrying  books  in  their  hands 
came  hurriedly  down  the  beach,  followed  by  a  crowd 
of  Sralik's  warriors,  who  urged  them  along  and  forced 
them  into  the  boat. 

Then  seizing  the  boat  they  shot  her  out  into  the 
water,  and,  shaking  their  spears  and  clubs,  called  out — 

"  Go,  white  men,  go  !  " 


Ninia. 


23 


But  although  the  native  sailors  who  pulled  the  boat 
were  trembling  with  fear,  the  two  white  men  did  not 
seem  frightened,  and  one  of  them,  standing  up  in  the 
stern  of  the  boat,  held  up  his  hand  and  called  out  to 
the  angry  and  excited  people — 

"  Let  me  speak,  I  pray  you  !  " 

The  natives  understood  him,  for  he  spoke  to  them 
in  the  language  spoken  by  the  natives  of  Strong's 
Island,  which  is  only  a  few  hundred  miles  from 
Pingelap. 

The  people  parted  to  the  right  and  left  as  Sralik, 
the  chief,  with  a  loaded  musket  grasped  in  his  brawny 
right  hand,  strode  down  to  the  water's  edge.  Sup- 
pressed wrath  shone  in  his  eyes  as  he  grounded  his 
musket  on  the  sand  and  looked  at  the  white  man. 

"  Speak,"  he  said,  "  and  then  be  gone." 

The  white  man  spoke. 

"  Nay,  spare  us  thy  anger,  O  chief,  I  come  not 
here  to  fill  thy  heart  with  anger,  but  with  peace  ;  and 
to  tell  thee  of  the  great  God,  and  of  His  Son  Christ, 
who  hath  sent  me  to  thee." 

Sralik  laughed  scornfully. 

"  Thou  liest.  Long  ago  did  I  know  that  some  day 
a  white-painted  ship  would  come  to  Pingelap,  and 
that  white  men  would  come  and  speak  to  us  of  this 
new  God  and  His  Son  who  is  called  Christ,  and  would 
say  that  this  Christ  had  sent  them,  and  then  would 
the  hearts  of  my  people  be  stolen  from  Nanawit  the 
Cave-god,  and  Tuarangi  the  god  of  the  Skies,  and  I, 
Sralik  the  king,  would  become  but  as  a  slave,  for  this 
new  God  of  theirs  would  steal  the  hearts  of  my  people 
from  me  as  well." 


24  Nima. 

The  white  man  said  sorrowfully — 

"  Nay,  that  is  not  so.     Who  hath  told  thee  this  ?  ** 

"  A  better  white  man  than  thee — he  who  slew  my 
enemies  and  was  named  Har6  (Harry).  Long  ago 
did  he  warn  me  of  thy  coming  and  bid  me  beware  of 
thee  with  thy  lies  about  thy  new  God  and  His  Son 
Christ." 

Again  the  missionary  said — 

"Let  me  speak." 

But  Sralik  answered  him  fiercely — 

"  Away,  I  tell  thee,  to  thy  white-painted  ship,  and 
trouble  me  no  more,"  and  he  slapped  the  stock  of  his 
musket,  and  his  white  teeth  gleamed  savagely  through 
his  bearded  face. 

So  the  two  missionaries  went  back,  and  the  Morning 
Star  filled  away  again  and  sailed  slowly  away  to  the 
westward. 

That  night  as  the  three  girls  lay  on  the  mats  beside 
the  dying  embers  of  the  fire,  they  talked  of  the  strange 
white  men  whom  Sralik  had  driven  away. 

Ninia  the  widow  listened  to  them  from  her  corner 
of  the  house,  and  then  she  said  musingly — 

"  I,  too,  have  heard  of  this  God  Christ ;  for  when 
Hare,  thy  father,  lay  in  my  arms  with  the  blood  pour- 
ing from  his  wound  and  death  looked  out  from  his 
eyes,  he  called  upon  His  name." 

Young  Ninia  and  her  sister  drew  closer  and  listened. 
Never  until  now  had  they  heard  their  mother  speak  of 
their  white  father's  death.  They  only  knew  that  some 
unknown  enemy  had  thrust  a  knife  into  his  side  as  he 
lay  asleep,  and  Ninia  the  widow  had,  with  terror  in 
her  eyes,  forbidden  them  to  talk  of  it  even  amongst 


Ninia.  25 

themselves.  Only  she  herself  knew  that  Sralik  had 
caused  his  death.     But  to-night  she  talked. 

"  Tell  us  more,  my  mother,"  said  girl  Ninia,  going 
over  to  her,  and  putting  her  cheek  against  her  mother's 
troubled  face  and  caressing  her  in  the  darkness. 

"  Aye,  I  can  tell  thee  now,  my  children,  for  Sralik's 
anger  is  dead  now.  ...  It  was  at  the  dawn,  just  when 
the  first  note  of  the  blue  pigeon  is  heard,  that  I  heard 
a  step  in  the  house — 'twas  the  death-men  of  Sralik — 
and  then  a  loud  cry,  and  Har6,  thy  father,  awoke  to 
die.  The  knife  had  bitten  deep  and  he  took  my  hands 
in  his  and  groaned. 

"  '  Farewell,'  he  said,  '  O  mother  of  my  children,  I 
die  ! '  Then  he  cried,  '  And  Thou,  O  Christ,  look 
down  on  and  forgive  me  ;  Christ  the  Son  of  God.' 

"  With  my  hand  pressed  to  his  side,  I  said :  '  Who 
is  it  that  thou  callest  upon,  my  husband  ?  Is  it  the 
white  man's  God  ?  ' 

"Aye,'  he  said,  'this  Christ  is  He  whom  I  have  so 
long  denied.  He  is  the  Son  of  the  God  whose  anger 
I  fear  to  meet  now  that  my  soul  goes  out  into  dark- 
ness.' 

" '  Fear  not,'  I  said,  weeping,  '  I,  Ninia,  will  make 
offerings  to  this  white  God  and  His  Son  Christ,  so 
that  their  anger  may  be  softened  against  thy  spirit 
when  it  wanders  in  ghost-land.' 

"  So  he  groaned  and  was  dead.  And  for  six  or  more 
moons  did  I  put  offerings  to  the  white  God  upon  thy 
father's  grave  as  I  had  promised.  No  offerings  made 
I  to  our  own  gods,  for  he  despised  them  even  as  he 
despised  his  own.  But  yet  do  I  think  his  Jelin  (spirit) 
is  at  rest  in  ghost-land  ;  else  had  it  come  to  me  in  the 
night  and  touched  me  on  the  forehead  as  I  slept." 


26  Ninia. 


III. 


A  month  had  gone  by  since  the  day  that  Sralik  had 
driven  away  the  "  Christ  ship,"  as  the  people  called 
the  Morning  Star^  and  then  word  came  over  from 
Sralik  to  Ruvani,  his  granddaughter,  to  come  over 
and  take  her  part  in  a  night-dance  and  feast  to  the 
rain-god,  for  the  year  had  been  a  good  one  and  the 
cocoanut  trees  were  loaded  with  nuts.  For  this  was 
the  dancing  and  feasting. 

All  that  day  the  eight  people  of  Takai  were  busied 
in  making  ready  their  gifts  of  food  for  the  feast  which 
was  to  take  place  in  two  days'  time.  In  the  afternoon, 
when  the  sun  had  lost  its  strength,  the  three  girls 
launched  their  canoe  and  set  out  for  a  place  on  the 
northern  point  of  Pingelap,  where  grew  in  great  pro- 
fusion the  sweet-smelling  nudu  flower.  These  would 
they  get  to  make  garlands  and  necklets  to  wear  at  the 
great  dance,  in  which  they  were  all  to  take  part. 

In  an  hour  or  two  they  had  gathered  all  the  nudu 
flowers  they  desired,  and  then  little  Tarita  looking  up 
saw  that  the  sky  was  overcast  and  blackening,  and 
presently  some  heavy  drops  of  rain  fell. 

"  Haste,  haste,"  she  cried  to  the  others,  "  let  us 
away  ere  the  strong  wind  which  is  behind  the  black 
clouds  overtakes  us  on  the  lagoon." 

Night  comes  on  quickly  in  the  South  Seas,  and  by 
the  time  they  had  seated  themselves  in  the  canoe  it 
was  dark.  In  a  little  while  a  sharp  rain-squall  swept 
down  from  the  northward,  and  they  heard  the  wind 
rattling  and  crashing  through  the  branches  of  the 
palms  on  Tugulu. 


Ninia.  27 

Ninia,  who  was  steering,  boldly  headed  the  canoe 
across  the  lagoon  for  Talcai,  and  laughed  when  Ruvani 
and  Tarita,  who  were  wet  and  shivering  with  the  cold 
rain,  urged  that  they  should  put  in  at  the  beach  on 
Tugulu  and  walk  home. 

"  Paddle,  paddle  strongly,"  she  cried,  "  what  mat- 
tereth  a  little  rain  and  wind  !  And  sing,  so  that  our 
mother  will  hear  us  and  make  ready  something  to  eat. 
Look,  I  can  already  see  the  blaze  of  her  fire." 

Striking  their  paddles  into  the  water  in  unison,  they 
commenced  to  sing,  but  suddenly  their  voices  died 
away  in  terror  as  a  strange,  droning  hum  was  borne 
down  to  them  from  the  black  line  of  Tugulu  shore  j 
and  then  the  droning  deepened  into  a  hoarse  roaring 
noise  as  the  wild  storm  of  wind  and  fierce,  stinging 
rain  tore  through  the  groves  of  cocoanuts  and  stripped 
them  of  leaves  and  branches. 

•Brave  Ninia,  leaning  her  lithe  figure  well  over  the 
side  of  the  canoe,  plunged  her  paddle  deep  down  and 
tried  to  bring  the  canoe  head  to  wind  to  meet  the 
danger,  and  Ruvani,  in  the  bow,  with  long  hair  flying 
straight  out  behind  her,  answered  her  effort  with  a 
cry  of  encouragement,  and  put  forth  all  her  strength 
to  aid. 

But  almost  ere  the  cry  had  left  her  lips,  the  full 
fury  of  the  squall  had  struck  them  ;  the  canoe  was 
caught  in  its  savage  breath,  twirled  round  and  round, 
and  then  filled. 

"  Keep  thou  in  the  canoe,  little  one,  and  bale," 
cried  Ninia  to  Tai'ita,  as  she  and  Ruvani  leaped  into 
the  water. 

For  some  minutes  the  two  girls  clung  with  one 
hand  each  to  the  gunwale,  and  Tarita,  holding  the 


28  Ninia. 

large  wooden  ahu^  or  baler,  in  both  hands,  dashed  the 
water  out.  Then  she  gave  a  trembling  cry — the 
baler  struck  against  the  side  of  the  canoe  and  dropped 
overboard. 

Ninia  dared  not  leave  the  canoe  to  seek  for  it  in 
the  intense  darkness,  and  so  clinging  to  the  little 
craft,  which  soon  filled  again,  they  drifted  about.  The 
waters  of  the  lagoon  were  now  white  with  the  break- 
ing seas,  and  the  wind  blew  with  fierce,  cruel,  steadi- 
ness, and  although  they  knew  it  not,  they  were  being 
swept  quickly  away  from  the  land  towards  the  passage 
in  the  reef. 

The  rain  had  ceased  now,  and  the  water  being  warm 
none  of  them  felt  cold,  but  the  noise  of  the  wind  and 
sea  was  so  great  that  they  had  to  shout  loudly  to  each 
other  to  make  their  voices  heard. 

Presently  Ruvani  called  out  to  Ninia — 

"  Let  us  take  Tarita  between  us  and  swim  to  the 
shore,  ere  the  sharks  come  to  us." 

"  Nay,  we  are  safer  here,  Ruvani.  And  how  could 
we  tell  my  mother  that  the  canoe  is  lost  ?  Let  us  wait 
a  little  and  then  the  wind  will  die  away." 

Canoes  are  valuable  property  on  Pingelap,  where 
suitable  wood  for  building  them  is  scarce,  and  this 
was  in  Ninia's  mind. 

They  still  kept  hold  of  their  paddles,  and  although 
afraid  of  the  sharks,  waited  patiently  for  the  storm  to 
cease,  little  thinking  that  at  that  moment  the  ebbing 
tide  and  wind  together  had  swept  them  into  the  pas- 
sage, and  that  they  were  quickly  drifting  away  from 
their  island  home. 

All  that  night  Ninia  the  widow  and  her  four  slaves 


Ninia.  29 

sought  along  the  beach  of  Tugulu  for  the  three  girls, 
who  they  felt  sure  had  landed  there.  And  when  the 
day  broke  at  last,  and  they  saw  that  the  gale  had  not 
ceased  and  that  the  canoe  had  vanished,  they  ran  all 
the  way  over  to  the  village,  and  Ninia  threw  herself  at 
Sralik's  feet. 

"  Thy  granddaughter  and  my  children  have  perished, 
O  chief." 

The  chief  came  to  the  door  of  his  house  and  looked 
out  upon  the  wild  turmoil  of  waters. 

"  It  is  the  will  of  the  gods,"  he  said,  "  else  had  not 
my  whaleboat  been  crushed  in  the  night,"  and  he 
pointed  to  the  ruins  of  the  boat-shed  upon  which  a 
huge  cocoanut  tree  had  fallen  and  smashed  the  boat. 

Then  he  went  back  into  his  house  and  covered  his 
face,  for  Ruvani  was  dear  to  his  savage  old  heart. 

And  Ninia  went  back  to  her  lonely  house  and  wept 
and  mourned  for  her  lost  ones  as  only  mothers  weep 
and  mourn,  be  they  of  white  skins  or  brown. 

Away  out  into  the  ocean  the  canoe  was  swept  along, 
and  Ruvani  and  Ninia  still  clung  to  her,  one  at  the 
head  and  one  at  the  stern.  Once  there  came  a  brief 
lull,  and  then  they  succeeded  in  partly  freeing  her 
from  water,  and  Tarita  using  her  two  hands  like  a 
scoop  meanwhile,  the  canoe  at  last  became  light  enough 
for  them  to  get  in. 

They  were  only  just  in  time,  for  even  then  the 
wind  freshened,  and  Ninia  and  Ruvani  let  the  canoe 
run  before  it,  for  they  were  too  exhausted  to  keep  her 
head  to  the  wind. 

When  daylight  broke  Ninia,  with  fear  in  her  heart, 
stood  up  in  the  canoe  and  looked  all  round  her. 


30  Ninia. 

There  was  no  land  in  sight !  Poor  children  !  Even 
then  they  could  not  have  been  more  than  twenty  miles 
away  from  the  island,  for  Pingelap  is  very  low  and  not 
visible  even  from  a  ship's  deck  at  more  than  twelve  or 
fifteen  miles. 

But  she  was  a  brave  girl,  although  only  fourteen, 
and  when  Tarita  and  Ruvani  wept  she  encouraged 
them. 

"  Sralik  will  come  to  seek  us  in  the  boat,"  she  said, 
although  she  could  have  wept  with  them. 

The  wind  still  carried  them  along  to  the  westward, 
and  Ninia  knew  that  every  hour  was  taking  them 
further  and  further  away  from  Pingelap,  but,  although 
it  was  not  now  blowing  hard,  she  knew  that  it  was 
useless  for  them  to  attempt  to  paddle  against  it.  So, 
keeping  dead  before  the  wind  and  sea,  they  drifted 
slowly  along. 

At  noon  the  wind  died  away,  and  then,  tired  and 
worn  out,  she  and  Ruvani  lay  down  in  the  bottom 
of  the  canoe  and  slept,  while  little  Tarita  sat  up  on 
the  cane  framework  of  the  outrigger  and  watched  the 
horizon  for  Sralik's  boat. 

Hour  after  hour  passed,  and  the  two  girls  still  slept. 
Tarita,  too,  had  lain  her  weary  head  down  and  slum- 
bered with  them. 

Slowly  the  sun  sank  beneath  a  sea  of  glassy  smooth- 
ness, unrippled  even  by  the  faintest  air,  and  then  Ninia 
awoke,  and,  sitting  up,  tossed  her  cloud  of  dark  hair 
away  from  her  face,  and  looked  around  her  upon  the 
darkening  ocean.  Her  lips  were  dry  and  parched,  and 
she  felt  a  terrible  thirst. 

"Tarita,"  she  called,  "art  sleeping,  dear  one  ?  " 

A  sob  answered  her. 


Ninia.  3 1 

"  Nay,  for  my  head  is  burning,  and  I  want  a  drink." 

The  whole  story  of  those  days  of  unutterable  agony 
cannot  be  told  here.  There,  under  a  torrid  sun,  without 
a  drop  of  water  or  a  morsel  of  food,  the  poor  creatures 
drifted  about  till  death  mercifully  came  to  two  of  them. 

It  was  on  the  evening  of  the  second  day  that  Ninia, 
taking  her  little  sister  in  her  own  fast  weakening  arms, 
pressed  her  to  her  bosom,  and,  looking  into  her  eyes, 
felt  her  thirst-racken  body  quiver  and  then  grow  still 
in  the  strange  peacefulness  of  death.  Then  a  long 
wailing  cry  broke  upon  the  silence  of  the  night. 

How  long  she  had  sat  thus  with  the  child's  head 
upon  her  bosom  and  her  dead  sightless  eyes  turned 
upward  to  the  glory  of  the  star-Ht  heavens  she  knew 
not ;  after  that  one  moaning  cry  of  sorrow  that  escaped 
from  her  anguished  heart  she  had  sat  there  like  a 
figure  of  stone,  dull,  dazed,  and  unconscious  almost 
of  the  agonies  of  thirst.  And  then  Ruvani,  with 
wild,  dreadful  eyes  and  bleeding,  sun-baked  lips,  crept 
towards  her,  and,  laying  her  face  on  Ninia's  hand, 
muttered — 

"  Farewell,  O  friend  of  my  heart ;  I  die." 

And  then,  as  she  lay  there  with  closed  eyes  and 
loosened  hair  falling  like  a  shroud  over  the  form  of  her 
dead  playmate,  she  muttered  and  talked,  and  then 
laughed  a  strange  weird  laugh  that  chilled  the  blood 
in  Ninia's  veins.  So  that  night  passed,  and  then,  as 
the  fiery  sun  uprose  again  upon  the  wide  sweep  or 
lonely  sea  and  the  solitary  drifting  canoe  with  its  load 
of  misery,  Ruvani,  who  still  muttered  and  laughed  to 
herself,  suddenly  rose  up,  and  with  the  strength  of 
madness,  placing  her  arms  around  the  stifi'ened  form 


32  Nima. 

of  little  Tarita,  she  sprang  over  the  side  and  sank 
with  her. 

Ninia,  stretching  her  arms  out  piteously,  bowed  her 
head,  and  lay  down  to  die. 

.  .  •  •  • 

She  was  aroused  from  her  stupor  by  the  cries  of  a 
vast  flock  of  sea  birds,  and,  opening  her  eyes,  she  saw 
that  the  canoe  was  surrounded  by  thousands  upon 
thousands  of  bonita  that  leaped  and  sported  and  splashed 
about  almost  within  arm's  length  of  her.  They  were 
pursuing  a  shoal  of  small  fish  called  atuU^  and  these 
every  now  and  then  darted  under  the  canoe  for 
protection.  Sometimes,  as  the  hungry  bonita  pressed 
them  hard,  they  would  leap  out  of  the  water,  hundreds 
together,  and  then  the  sea  birds  would  swoop  down 
and  seize  them  ere  they  fell  back  into  the  sea. 

Ninia,  trembling  with  excitement  and  the  hope  of 
life,  watched  eagerly.  Presently  she  heard  a  curious, 
rippHng  noise,  and  then  a  rapidly-repeated  tapping  on 
the  outrigger  side  of  the  canoe. 

Oh  !  the  joy  of  it ;  the  water  was  black  with  a  mass 
of  <?/«//,  crowded  together  on  the  surface,  and  fright- 
ened and  exhausted. 

She  thrust  her  hands  in  among  them  and  threw 
handsful  after  handsful  into  the  canoe,  and  then  her 
dreadful  thirst  and  hunger  made  her  cease,  and,  taking 
fish  after  fish,  she  bit  into  them  with  her  sharp  teeth, 
and  assuaged  both  hunger  and  thirst. 

As  she  tore  ravenously  at  the  atuli  the  sky  became 
overcast,  and  while  the  bonitas  splashed  and  jumped 
around  her,  and  the  birds  cried  shrilly  overhead,  the 
blessed  rain  began  to  fall,  at  first  in  heavy  drops,  and 
then  in  a  steady  downpour. 


Ninia.  33 

Taking  off  her  thick  grass  girdle,  she  rolled  it  up 
into  a  tight  coil  and  placed  it  across  the  bottom  of  the 
canoe,  about  two  feet  from  the  bows,  so  as  to  form  a 
dam ;  and  then,  lying  face  downwards,  she  drank  and 
drank  till  satisfied.  Then  she  counted  the  atuli.  There 
were  over  forty. 

All  that  day  the  rain  squalls  continued,  and  then  the 
wind  settled  and  blew  steadily  from  the  east,  and  Ninia 
kept  the  canoe  right  before  it. 

That  night  she  slept  but  little.  A  wild  hope  had 
sprung  up  in  her  heart  that  she  might  reach  the  island 
of  Ponape,  which  she  knew  was  not  many  days'  sail 
from  Pingelap.  Indeed,  she  had  once  heard  her  father 
and  Sralik  talking  about  going  there  in  the  whaleboat 
to  sell  turtle-shell  to  the  white  traders  there. 

But  she  did  not  know  that  the  current  and  trade 
wind  were  setting  the  canoe  quickly  away  from 
Ponape  towards  a  group  of  low-lying  atolls  called 
Ngatik. 


The  rain  had  ceased,  and  in  the  warm,  starlight 
night  she  drifted  on  to  the  west,  and  as  she  drifted 
she  dreamed  of  her  father,  and  saw  Ninia  the  widow, 
her  mother,  sitting  in  the  desolate  house  on  Takai, 
before  the  dying  embers  of  the  fire,  and  heard  her 
voice  crying  : 

"  O  thou  white  Christ  God^  to  whom  my  husband  called 
as  he  died,  tell  me  are  my  children  perished?  I  pray 
thee  because  of  the  white  blood  that  is  in  them  to  protect 
them  and  let  me  behold  my  beloved  again." 

The  girl  awoke.  Her  mother's  voice  seemed  to 
still  murmur  in  her  ears,  and  a  calm  feeling  of  rest 

4 


34  Ninia. 

entered  her  soul.  She  took  her  paddle,  and  then 
stopped  and  thought. 

This  new  God — the  Christ-God  of  her  father — 
perhaps  He  would  help  her  to  reach  the  land.  She, 
too,  would  call  upon  Him,  even  as  her  mother  had 
done. 

"  See,  O  Christ-God.  I  am  but  one  left  of  three. 
I  pray  Thee  guide  my  canoe  to  land,  so  that  I  may  yet 
see  Ninia  my  mother  once  more." 

As  the  dawn  approached  she  dozed  again,  and  then 
she  heard  a  sound  that  made  her  heart  leap — it  was  the 
low,  monotonous  beat  of  the  surf. 

When  the  sun  rose  she  saw  before  her  a  long  line 
of  low-lying  islands,  clothed  in  cocoanuts,  and  shining 
like  jewels  upon  the  deep  ocean  blue. 

She  ate  some  more  of  the  fish,  and,  paddling  as 
strongly  as  her  strength  would  permit,  she  passed 
between  the  passage,  entered  the  smooth  waters  of  the 
lagoon,  and  ran  the  canoe  up  on  to  a  white  beach. 

"  The  Christ-God  has  heard  me,"  she  said  as  she 
threw  her  wearied  form  under  the  shade  of  the  cocoa- 
nut  palms  and  fell  into  a  heavy,  dreamless  slumber. 

And  here  next  morning  the  people  of  Ngatik  found 
her.  They  took  the  poor  wanderer  back  with  them 
to  their  houses  that  were  clustered  under  the  palm- 
groves  a  mile  or  two  away,  and  there  for  two  years 
she  dwelt  with  them,  hoping  and  waiting  to  return  to 
Pingelap. 

One  day  a  ship  came — a  whaler  cruising  back  to 
Strong's  Island  and  the  Marshall  Group.  The  captain 
was  told  her  story  by  the  people  of  Ngatik,  and  offered 
to  touch  at  Pingelap  and  land  her. 


Ninta.  35 

Ninia  the  widow  was  still  living  on  Takai,  and  her 
once  beautiful  face  had  grown  old  and  haggard-looking. 
Since  the  night  of  the  storm  four  ships  had  called  at 
Pingelap,  but  she  had  never  once  gone  over  to  the 
village,  for  grief  was  eating  her  heart  away ;  and  so, 
when  one  evening  she  heard  that  a  ship  was  in  sight, 
she  took  no  heed. 

Her  house  was  very  sad  and  lonely  now,  and  as  night 
came  on  she  lay  down  in  her  end  of  the  house  and 
slept,  while  the  other  four  people  sat  round  the  fire 
and  talked  and  smoked. 

In  the  middle  of  the  night  the  four  slaves  got  up 
and  went  away  to  the  village,  for  they  wanted  to  be 
there  when  the  boat  from  the  ship  came  ashore. 

At  daylight  the  ship  was  close  in,  and  the  people 
in  the  village  saw  a  boat  lowered.  Then  a  cry  of 
astonishment  burst  from  them  when  they  saw  the 
boat  pull  straight  in  over  the  reef  and  land  at  Takai, 
about  a  hundred  yards  from  the  house  of  Ninia,  the 
white  man's  widow. 

Only  one  person  got  out,  and  then  the  boat  pushed 
off  again  and  pulled  back  to  the  ship. 

•  •  ,  •  •  • 

Ninia  the  widow  had  risen,  and  was  rolling  up  the 
mat  she  had  slept  upon,  when  a  figure  darkened  the 
doorway.  She  turned  wonderingly  to  see  who  it  was 
that  had  come  over  so  early  from  the  village,  when  the 
stranger,  who  was  a  tall,  graceful  young  girl,  sprang 
forward,  and,  folding  her  arms  around  her,  said,  sob- 
bing with  joy — 

"  My  mother.  .  .  The  Christ-God  hath  brought 
me  back  to  thee  again." 


BALDWIN'S  LOISE 


Baldwin  s    LoisL 

Miss  Lambert. 

Her  mother  was  a  full-blooded  native — a  woman  of 
Anaa,  in  the  Chain  Islands — her  father  a  dissolute  and 
broken  white  wanderer.  At  the  age  of  ten  she  was 
adopted  by  a  wealthy  South  Sea  trading  captain,  living 
on  the  East  Coast  of  New  Zealand.  He,  with  his 
childless  wife,  educated,  cared  for,  and  finally  loved 
her,  as  they  once  loved  a  child  of  their  own,  dead 
twenty  years  before. 

At  sixteen  Loise  was  a  woman  ;  and  in  the  time 
that  had  passed  since  the  morning  she  had  seen  her 
reckless,  beach-combing  father  carried  ashore  at 
Nukutavake  with  a  skinful  of  whisky  and  his  pockets 
full  of  the  dollars  for  which  he  had  sold  her,  the 
tongue  and  memories  of  her  mother's  race  had 
become,  seemingly,  utterly  forgotten. 

•  •  •  •  • 

But  only  seemingly ;  for  sometimes  in  the  cold 
winter  months,  when  savage  southerly  gales  swept 
over  the  cloud-blackened  ocean  from  the  white  fields 
of  Antarctic  ice  and  smote  the  New  Zealand  coast 
with  chilling  blast,  the  girl  would  crouch  beside  the 


40  Baldwin  s  Loise. 

fire  'n  Mrs.  Lambert's  drawing-room,  and  covering 
herself  with  warm  rugs,  stare  into  the  glowing  coals 
until  she  fell  asleep. 

She  had  not  forgotten. 

One  day  a  visitor  came  to  see  her  adopted  father. 
He  was  captain  of  a  small  trading  schooner  running 
to  the  Paumotus — her  mother's  land — and  although 
old  Lambert  had  long  since  given  up  his  trading 
business  and  voyagings,  he  liked  to  meet  people  from 
the  Islands,  and,  indeed,  kept  open  house  to  them  j  so 
both  he  and  Mrs.  Lambert  made  him  welcome. 

The  captain  of  the  schooner  was  a  man  of  a  type 
common  enough  in  the  South  Seas,  rough,  good- 
humoured,  and  coarsely  handsome. 

After  dinner  the  two  men  sat  over  their  whisky 
and  talked  and  smoked.  Mrs.  Lambert,  always  an 
invalid,  had  gone  to  her  room,  but  Loise,  book  in 
hand,  lay  on  a  sofe  and  seemed  to  read.  But  she  did 
not  read,  she  listened.  She  had  caught  a  word  or  two 
uttered  by  the  dark-faced,  black-bearded  skipper — 
words  that  filled  her  with  vague  memories  of  long 
ago.  And  soon  she  heard  names — names  of  men, 
white  and  brown,  whom  she  had  known  in  that 
distant,  almost  forgotten  and  savage  childhood. 

When  the  seaman  rose  to  leave  and  extended  his 
tanned,  sinewy  hand  to  the  beautiful  "  Miss  Lambert," 
and  gazed  with  undisguised  admiration  into  her  face, 
he  little  thought  that  she  longed  to  say,  "  Stay  and  let 
me  hear  more."  But  she  was  conventional  enough  to 
know  better  than  that,  and  that  her  adopted  parents 
would  be  genuinely  shocked  to  see  her  anything  more 
than  distantly  friendly  with  such  a  man  as  a  common 


Baldwin^ s  Loise.  41 

trading  captain — even  though  that  man  had  once  been 
one  of  Lambert's  most  trusted  men.  Still,  as  she 
raised  her  eyes  to  his,  she  murmured  softly,  "  We  will 
be  glad  to  see  you  again,  Captain  Lemaire."  And 
the  dark-faced  seaman  gave  her  a  subtle,  answrering 
glance. 

•  •  •  •  • 

All  that  night  she  lay  av^^ake — av^^ake  to  the  child 
memories  of  the  life  that  until  nov^^  had  slumbered 
w^ithin  her.  From  her  opened  bedroom  w^indow  she 
could  see  the  dulled  blaze  of  the  city's  lights,  and 
hear  ever  and  anon  the  hoarse  and  warning  roar  of  a 
steamer's  whistle.  She  raised  herself  and  looked  out 
upon  the  waters  of  the  harbour.  A  huge,  black  mass 
was  moving  slowly  seaward,  showing  only  her  mast- 
head and  side-lights — some  ocean  tramp  bound  north- 
ward. Again  the  boom  of  the  whistle  sounded,  and 
then,  by  the  quickened  thumping  of  the  propeller,  the 
girl  knew  that  the  tramp  had  rounded  the  point  and 
was  heading  for  the  open  sea. 

She  lay  back  again  on  the  pillow  and  tried  to  sleep. 
Why  couldn't  she  sleep,  she  wondered.  She  closed 
her  eyes.  The  branches  of  the  pine  that  grew  close 
to  her  window  rustled  and  shook  to  a  passing  breath 
of  wind,  and  her  eyes  opened  again.  How  strangely, 
though,  it  sounded  to-night,  and  how  her  heart  was 
thumping  !  Again  the  white  lids  drooped  and  half 
closed  again,  and  the  pine  branches  waved  and  soughed 
gently  to  the  breeze. 

And  then  the  dead  grey  of  the  wall  of  the  room 
changed  to  a  bright,  shimmering  white — the  white  of 
an  island  beach  as  it  changes,  under  the  red  flush  of 


42  Baldwins  Loise. 

the  morn,  from  the  shadows  of  the  night  to  a  broad 
belt  of  gleaming  silver — and  the  sough  of  the  pine- 
tree  by  the  window  deepened  into  the  humming 
music  ot  the  trade-wind  when  it  passes  through  the 
sleeping  palms,  and  a  million  branches  awake  trembling 
to  its  first  breaths  and  shake  off  in  pearly  showers  the 
dews  of  the  night.  Again  she  raced  along  the  clink- 
ing sand  with  her  childish,  half-naked  companions, 
and  heard  the  ceaseless  throb  of  the  beating  surf  upon 
the  windward  reef,  and  saw  the  flash  of  gold  and 
scarlet  of  a  flock  of  parrakeets  that  with  shrill, 
whistling  note,  vanished  through  the  groves  of  cocoa- 
nuts  as  they  sped  mountain  wards.  Then  her  latent 
native  soul  awoke  and  made  her  desperate. 


Ere  two  days  had  passed  she  was  missing,  and  six 
weeks  later  a  little  white-painted  schooner  hove-to  off 
one  of  the  Paumotu  Group,  lowered  a  boat,  and 
landed  her  amongst  the  wondering  natives. 

The  dark-faced,  black-bearded  man  who  steered  the 
boat  held  her  hand  a  moment  ere  he  said  good-bye. 

"  It  is  not  too  late,  Loise." 

She  raised  her  face  and  laughed  scornfully. 

"  To  go  back  ?  To  go  back  to  hear  the  old  man 
who  was  a  father  and  the  good  woman  who  was 
a  mother  to  me,  tell  me  that  they  hated  and  despised 
me  !  "     And  then  quick,  scalding  tears. 

The  man's  face  flushed.  "  No,  not  that,  but," 
with  an  oath,  "  look  here,  if  you'll  come  with  me  I'll 
head  the  schooner  for  Tahiti,  and  as  soon  as  she 
swings  to  her  anchor  we  will  be  ashore  and  married." 

She  shook  her  head.    "  Let  me  go,  Captain  Lemaire. 


Baldwins  Loise.  43 

Whatever  comes  to  me,  'tis  I  alone  who  must  answer 
for  it.     And  so — good-bye." 

She  stood  and  watched  the  boat  hoisted  to  the 
davits,  and  saw  the  schooner  slowly  gather  way,  and 
then  glide  past  and  disappear  round  the  palm-crowned 
point.  Then  she  turned  with  streaming  eyes  and 
choking  voice  to  the  brown-skinned  people  that  stood 
around  her,  and  spoke  to  them  in  her  mother's 
tongue. 

So  ended  the  sixteen  years'  life  of  the  beautiful 
Miss  Lambert  and  began  that  of  Loise,  the  half- 
blood. 

Loise,  the  Half-blood. 

There  was  a  wild  rush  of  naked,  scurrying  feet,  and 
a  quick  panting  of  brown  bosoms  along  the  winding 
path  that  led  to  Baldwin's  house  at  Rikitea.  A 
trading  schooner  had  just  dropped  anchor  inside  the 
reef,  and  the  runners,  young  lads  and  girls — half- 
naked,  lithe-limbed  and  handsome — like  all  the  people 
of  the  "thousand  isles,"  wanted  to  welcome  Baldwin 
the  Trader  at  his  own  house  door. 

.  .  .  •  • 

Two  of  them — a  boy  and  girl — gained  the  trader's 
gate  ahead  of  their  excited  companions,  and,  lean- 
ing their  backs  against  the  white  palings,  mocked 
the  rest  for  their  tardiness  in  the  race.  With  one 
arm  around  the  girl's  lissom  waist,  the  boy,  Maturei, 
short,  thickset,  muscular,  and  the  bully  of  the  village, 
beat  off  with  his  left  hand  those  who  sought  to  dis- 
place them  from  the  gate  3  and  the  girl,  thin,  Creole- 


44  Baldwin*s  Loise. 

faced,  with  soft,  red-lipped  mouth,  laughed  softly  at 
their  vexation.  Her  gaily-coloured  grass  waist  girdle 
had  broken,  and  presently  moving  the  boy's  protecting 
arm,  she  tried  to  tie  the  band,  and  as  she  tied  it  she 
rattled  out  oaths  in  English  and  French  at  the  score 
of  brown  hands  that  sought  to  prevent  her. 

"  Hut !  Hut !  !  Away,  ye  fools,  and  let  me  tie 
my  girdle,"  she  said  in  the  native  tongue.  "  'Tis  no 
time  now  for  such  folly  as  this  ;  for,  see,  the  boat  is 
lowered  from  the  ship  and  in  a  little  time  the  master 
will  be  here." 

The  merry  chatter  ceased  in  an  instant  and  every 
face  turned  towards  the  schooner,  and  a  hundred  pair 
of  curious  eyes  watched.  Then,  one  by  one,  they  sat 
down  and  waited  ;  all  but  the  two  at  the  gate,  who 
remained  standing,  the  boy's  arm  still  wound  round 
the  girl's  waist, 

•  •  •  •  • 

The  boat  was  pulling  in  swiftly  now,  and  the 
"click-clack"  of  the  rowlocks  reached  the  listening 
ears  of  those  on  shore. 

There  were  two  figures  in  the  stern,  and  presently 
one  stood  up,  and  taking  ofF  his  hat,  waved  it  towards 
the  shore. 

A  roar  of  welcome  from  the  thronging  mass  of 
natives  that  lined  the  beach  drowned  the  shrill,  piping 
treble  of  the  children  round  the  gate,  and  told  sturdy 
old  Tom  Baldwin  that  he  was  recognised,  and  scarce 
had  the  bow  of  the  boat  ploughed  into  the  soft  sand  of 
the  beach  when  he  was  seized  upon  and  smothered 
with  caresses,  the  men  with  good-natured  violence 
thrusting  aside  the  women  and  forming  a  body-guard 
to   conduct  him  and  the  young  man  with  him  from 


Baldwin*s  Loise.  45 

the  boat  to  the  house.  And  about  the  strange  white 
man  the  people  thronged  with  inquiring  and  admiring 
glances,  for  he  was  big  and  strong-looking — and  that 
to  a  native  mind  is  better  than  all  else  in  the  world. 

With  joyous,  laughing  clamour,  the  natives  pressed 
around  the  white  men  till  the  gate  was  reached,  and 
then  fell  back. 

The  girl  stepped  forward,  and  taking  the  trader's 
hand,  bent  her  forehead  to  it  in  token  of  submission. 

"The  key  of  this  thy  house,  Tamu,"  she  mur- 
mured in  the  native  tongue,  as  she  placed  it  in  his 
hand. 

"  Enter  thou  first,  Loise,"  and  he  waved  it  away. 

A  faint  smile  of  pleasure  illumined  her  face ;  Bald- 
win, rough  and  careless  as  he  was,  was  yet  studious  to 
observe  native  custom. 

The  white  men  followed  her,  and  then  in  the  open 
doorway  Baldwin  stopped,  turned,  and  raised  his  hand, 
palm  outwards,  to  the  throng  of  natives  without. 

"I  thank  thee,  friends,  for  thy  welcome.  Dear  to 
mine  ears  is  the  sound  of  the  tongue  of  the  men  of 
Rikitea.  See  ye  this  young  man  here.  He  is  the  son 
of  my  friend  who  is  now  dead — he  whom  some  of  ye 
have  seen,  Kapeni  Paraisi"  (Captain  Brice). 

A  tall,  broad-shouldered  native,  with  his  hair  stream- 
ing down  over  his  shoulders,  strode  up  the  steps,  and 
taking  the  young  man's  hand  in  his,  placed  it  to  his 
forehead. 

"The  son  of  Paraisi  is  welcome  to  Rikitea,  and  to 
me,  the  chief  of  Rikitea." 

There  was  a  murmur  of  approval ;  Baldwin  waved 
his  hand  again,  and  then,  with  Brice,  entered  the  house. 


46  Baldwin  s  Loise. 

Outside,  the  boy  and  girl,  seated  on  the  verandah 
steps,  talked  and  waited  for  orders. 

Said  Maturei,  "  Loise,  think  you  that  now  Tamu 
hath  found  thee  to  be  faithful  to  his  house  and  his 
name  that  he  will  marry  thee  according  to  the  promise 
made  to  the  priests  at  Tenararo  when  he  first  brought 
thee  here  ?  " 

She  took  a  thick  coil  of  her  shining  black  hair 
and  wound  it  round  and  round  her  hand  meditatively, 
looking  out  absently  over  the  calm  waters  of  the 
harbour. 

"  Who  knows,  Maturei  ?  And  I,  I  care  not.  Yet 
do  I  think  it  will  be  so ;  for  what  other  girl  is  there 
here  that  knoweth  his  ways,  and  the  ways  of  the  white 
men  as  I  know  them  ?  And  this  old  man  is  a  glutton  ; 
and,  so  that  my  skill  in  baking  pigeons  and  making 
karri  and  rice  fail  me  not,  then  am  I  mistress  here.  .  .  . 
Maturei,  is  not  the  stranger  an  evil-looking  man  ?  " 

"  Evil-looking  !  "  said  the  boy,  wonderinglyj  "nay, 
how  canst  thou  say  that  of  him  ?  " 

"  What  a  jolly  old  fellow  he  is,  and  how  these 
people  adore  him ! "  thought  Brice,  as  they  sat  down  to 
dinner.  Two  or  three  of  the  village  girls  waited  upon 
them,  and  in  the  open  doorway  sat  a  vision  of  loveli- 
ness, arrayed  in  yellow  muslin,  and  directing  the  move- 
ments of  the  girls  by  almost  imperceptible  motions  of 
her  palm-leaf  fan. 

Brice  was  strangely  excited.  The  novelty  ot  the 
surroundings,  the  wondrous,  bright  beauty  of  sea,  and 
shore,  and  palm-grove  that  lay  within  his  range  or 
vis  on  were  already  beginning  to  weave  their  fatal 
spell  upon  his  susceptible  nature.     And   then,  again 


BaldwirCs  Loise.  47 

and  again,  his  glance  would  fall  upon  the  sweet,  oval 
face  and  scarlet  lips  of  the  girl  that  sat  in  the  doorway. 
Who  was  she  ?  Not  old  Baldwin's  wife,  surely  !  for 
had  not  the  old  fellow  often  told  him  that  he  was  not 
married  ?  .  .  .  And  what  a  lovely  spot  to  live  in,  this 
Rikitea!  By  Jove,  he  would  like  to  stay  a  year  here 
instead  of  a  few  months  only.  .  .  .  Again  his  eyes 
rested  on  the  figure  in  the  doorway — and  then  his 
veins  thrilled — Loise,  lazily  lifting  her  long,  sweeping 
lashes  had  caught  his  admiring  glance. 

Brice  was  no  fool  with  women — that  is,  he  thought 
so,  never  taking  into  consideration  that  his  numerous 
love  affairs  had  always  ended  disastrously — to  the 
woman.  And  his  mother,  good  simple  soul,  had 
thought  that  the  best  means  of  taking  her  darling  son 
away  from  unapproved-of  female  society  would  be  a 
voyage  to  the  islands  with  old  Tom  Baldwin  ! 

Dinner  was  finished,  and  the  two  men  were  sitting 
out  on  the  verandah  smoking  and  drinking  whisky, 
when  Brice  said,  carelessly — 

"  I  wonder  you  never  married,  Baldwin." 

The  old  trader  puffed  at  his  pipe  for  a  minute  or 
two  ere  he  answered — 

"  Did  you  notice  that  girl  at  all  ?  "  and  he  inclined 
his  head  towards  the  door  of  the  »itting-room. 

The  young  man  nodded. 

Then  the  candid  Baldwin  told  him  her  history. 
"  I  can't  defend  my  own  position.  I  am  no  better 
than  most  traders — you  see  it  is  the  custom  here, 
neither  is  she  worse  than  any  of  these  half-blooded 
Paumotuans.  If  I  married  a  native  of  this  particular 
island  I  would  only  bring   trouble  on  my  head.     1 


48  Baldwins  Loise. 

could  not  show  any  preference  for  any  particular  girl 
for  a  wife  without  raising  the  bitterest  quarrels  among 
some  of  the  leading  chiefs  here.  You  see,  as  a  matter 
of  fact,  I  should  have  married  as  soon  as  I  came  here, 
twenty  years  ago  ;  then  the  trouble  would  have  been 
over.  But  I  didn't.  I  can  see  my  mistake  now,  for 
I  am  getting  old  pretty  fast  j  .  •  .  and  now  that  the 
missionaries  are  here,  and  I  do  a  lot  of  business  with 
them,  I  think  us  white  men  ought  to  show  them  some 
kind  of  respect  by  getting  married — properly  married 
— to  our  wives." 

Brice  laughed.  "  You  mean,  Baldwin,  they  should 
get  married  according  to  the  rites  of  the  Roman 
Catholic  Church?" 

"  Aye,"  the  old  trader  assented.  "  Now,  there's 
Loise,  there — a  clever,  intelligent,  well-educated  girl, 
and  as  far  as  money  or  trade  goes,  as  honest  as  the 
day.  Can  I,  an  old  white-headed  fool  of  sixty,  go  to 
Australia  and  ask  any  good  woman  to  marry  me,  and 
come  and  live  down  here  ?     No." 

He  smoked  in  silence  awhile,  and  then  resumed. 

"  Yes  ;  honest  and  trustworthy  she  is,  I  believe  j 
although  the  white  blood  in  her  veins  is  no  recom- 
mendation. If  ever  you  should  live  in  the  islands,  my 
lad — which  isn't  likely — take  an  old  fool's  advice  and 
never  marry  a  half-caste,  either  in  native  fashion  or  in 
a  church  with  a  brass  band  and  a  bishop  as  leading 
features  of  the  show." 

•  •  •  •  • 

Loise  came  to  them.  "Will  you  take  coffee, 
Tamu  ?  "  she  asked,  standing  before  them  with  folded 
hands. 

The  trader  bent  his  head,  and  as  the  girl  with  noise- 


Baldwiris  Loise,  49 

less  step  glided  gracefully  away  again  he  watched 
her. 

"I  think  I  will  marry  her,  Brice.  Sometimes 
when  the  old  Marist  priest  comes  here  he  makes  me 

feel  d d  uncomfortable.     Of  course  he  is  too  much 

of  a  gentleman — although  he  is  a  sky-pilot — to  say  all 
he  would  like  to  say,  but  every  time  he  bids  me 
good-bye  he  says — cunning  old  chap — '  And  think,  M. 
Baldwin,  her  father,  bad  as  he  was,  was  a  white  man^  '* 

The  young  man  Hstened  in  silence. 

"  I  don't  think  I  will  ever  go  back  to  civilisation 
again,  my  lad — I  am  no  use  there.  Here  I  am  some- 
body— there  I  am  nobody  ;  so  I  think  I'll  give  the  old 
Father  a  bit  of  a  surprise  soon."  Then  with  his  merry, 
chuckling  laugh — "and  you'll  be  my  best  man.  You 
see,  it  won't  make  any  difference  to  you.  Nearly 
all  that  I  have,  when  I  peg  out,  will  go  to  you — the  son 
of  my  old  friend  and  shipmate." 

A  curious  feeling  shot  through  Brice's  heart  as  he 
murmured  his  thanks.  The  recital  of  the  girl's  history 
made  him  burn  with  hot  anger  against  her.  He  had 
thought  her  so  innocent.  And  yet  the  old  trader's 
words,  "  I've  almost  made  up  my  mind  to  marry  her," 
seemed  to  dash  to  the  ground  some  vague  hope,  he 
knew  not  what. 

That  night  he  lay  on  a  soft  mat  on  Baldwin's 
verandah  and  tried  to  sleep.  But  from  between  the 
grey-reds  of  the  serried  line  of  palms  that  encompassed 
the  house  on  all  but  the  seaward  side,  a  pale  face  with 
star-Hke  eyes  and  ruby  lips  looked  out  and  smiled  upon 
him ;  in  the  distant  and  ever  varying  cadences  of  the 
breaking  surf  he  heard  the  sweet  melody  of  her  voice  j 

5 

I 


50  Baldwin^ s  Laise. 

in  the  dazzling  brilliancy  of  the  starry  heavens  her 
haunting  face,  with  eyes  alight  with  love,  looked  into  his. 

"  D n  !  "     He  rose  from  his  couch,  opened  the 

gate,  and  went  out  along  the  white  dazzle  of  the  star- 
lit beach.  "  What  the  devil  is  the  matter  with  me  ? 
I  must  be  drunk — on  two  or  three  nips  of  whisky.  .  .  . 
What  a  glorious,  heavenly  night !  .  .  .  And  what  a 
grand  old  fellow  Baldwin  is  !  .  .  .  And  I'm  an  infernal 

scoundrel   to  think  of  her — or  a  d d  idiot,  or  a 

miserable  combination  of  both." 

In  a  few  days  two  things  had  happened.  Baldwin 
had  married  Loise,  and  Brice  was  madly  in  love  with 
her  and  she  with  him.  Yet  scarcely  a  word  had  passed 
between  them — he  silent  because  of  genuine  shame  at 
the  treachery  of  his  thoughts  to  the  old  man  j  she 
because  she  but  bided  her  time. 

One  day  he  accepted  an  invitation  from  the  old 
French  priest  to  pay  a  visit  to  the  Mission.  He 
went  away  quietly  one  morning,  and  then  wrote  to 
Baldwin. 

"  Ten  miles  is  a  good  long  way  ofF,"  he  thought. 
"  I'll  be  all  right  in  a  week  or  so — then  I'll  come  back 
and  be  a  fool  no  longer." 

The  priest  liked  the  young  man,  and  in  his  simple, 
hospitable  way,  made  much  of  him.  On  the  evening 
of  the  third  day,  as  they  paced  to  and  fro  on  the  path 
in  the  Mission  garden,  they  saw  Baldwin's  boat  sail  up 
to  the  beach. 

"  See,"  said  the  priest,  with  a  smile,  "  M.  Baldwin 
will  not  let  me  keep  you  ;  and  Loise  comes  with  him. 
So,  so,  you  must  go,  but  you  will  come  again  ?  "  and 
he  pressed  the  young  Englishman's  hand. 


Baldwin* s  Lstse.  51 

The  sturdy  figure  of  the  old  trader  came  up  through 
the  garden  j  Loise,  native  fashion,  walking  behind 
him. 

Knitting  his  heavy  white  eyebrows  in  mock  anger 
he  ordered  Brice  to  the  boat,  and  then  extending  his 
hand  to  the  priest — "  I  must  take  him  back.  Father ; 
the  Malolo  sails  to-morrow,  and  the  skipper  is  coming 
ashore  to-night  to  dinner,  to  say  good-bye ;  and,  as 
you  know.  Father,  I'm  a  silly  old  man  with  the  whisky 
bottle,  and  I'll  get  Mr.  Brice  to  keep  me  steady." 

The  tall,  thin  old  priest  raised  his  finger  warningly 
and  shook  his  head  at  old  Baldwin  and  then  smiled. 

"  Ah,  M.  Baldwin,  I  am  very  much  afraid  that  I 
will  never  make  you  to  understand  that  too  much  of 
the  whisky  is  very  bad  for  the  head." 

With  a  parting  glass  of  wine  they  bade  the  good 
Father  good-bye,  and  then  hoisting  the  sail,  they  stood 
across  for  Rikitea.  The  sun  had  dipped,  and  the 
land-breeze  stole  softly  down  from  the  mountains  and 
sped  the  boat  along.  Baldwin  was  noisy  and  jocular  j 
Brice  silent  and  ill  at  ease. 

Another  hour's  run  and  Baldwin  sailed  the  boat 
close  under  the  trading  schooner's  stern.  Leaning 
over  the  rail  was  the  pyjama-clad  captain,  smoking  a 
cigar. 

"  Now  then,  Harding,"  bawled  the  old  trader, 
"  don't  forget  to  be  up  to  time,  eight  o'clock." 

"  Come  aboard,  and  make  out  your  order  for 
your  trade,  you  noisy  old  Areoi  devil,"  said  Harding. 
**  You'll  '  make  it  out  ashore,'  eh  ?  No  fear,  I 
won't  trust  you,  you  careless,  forgetful  old  dog.  So 
just  lay  up  alongside,  and  I'll  take  you  ashore  in  half 
an  hour." 


52  Baldwin* s  Loise. 

"By  Jupiter,  I  mustn't  forget  the  order,"  and 
Baldwin,  finding  he  could  not  inveigle  the  captain 
ashore  just  then,  ran  the  boat  alongside  the  schooner 
and  stepped  over  her  rail — "  Go  on,  Brice,  my  lad. 
I'll  soon  be  w^ith  you.  Give  him  some  whisky  or 
beer,  or  something,  Loise,  as  soon  as  you  get  to  the 
house.     He  looks  as  melancholy  as  a  ghost." 

As  the  boat's  crew  pushed  ofF  from  the  schooner, 
Brice  came  aft  to  steer,  and  placing  his  hand  on  the 
tiller  it  touched  Loise's.  She  moved  aside  to  make 
room  for  him,  and  he  heard  his  name  whispered,  and 
in  the  darkness  he  saw  her  lips  part  in  a  happy  smile. 

Then,  still  silent,  they  were  pulled  ashore. 

From  his  end  of  the  house  he  heard  a  soft  footfall 
enter  the  big  room,  and  then  stop.  She  was  standing 
by  the  table  when,  soon  after,  he  came  out  of  his 
room.  At  the  sound  of  his  footstep  she  turned  the 
flame  of  the  shaded  lamp  to  its  full  height,  and  then 
raised  her  face  and  looked  at  him.  There  was  a 
strange,  radiant  expectancy  in  her  eyes  that  set  his 
heart  to  beat  wildly.  Then  he  remembered  her 
husband — his  friend. 

"  I  suppose  Tom  won't  be  long,*'  he  began,  ner- 
vously, when  she  came  over  to  him  and  placed  her 
hand  on  his  sleeve.  The  slumbrous  eyes  were  all 
aglow  now,  and  her  bosom  rose  and  fell  in  short, 
quick  strokes  beneath  her  white  muslin  gown. 

"  Why  did  you  go  away  ?  "  she  said,  her  voice  scarce 
raised  above  a  whisper,  yet  quivering  and  tremulous 
with  emotion. 

He  tried  to  look  away  from  her,  trembling  himself, 
and  not  knowing  what  to  say. 


Baldwin* s  Loise.  53 

"  Ah,"  she  said,  "  speak  to  me,  answer  me  ;  why 
don't  you  say  something  to  me  ?  I  thought  that  once 
your  eyes  sought  mine  in  the  boat " — then  as  she 
saw  him  still  standing  awkward  and  silent,  all  her 
wild  passion  burst  out — *'  Brice,  Brice,  I  love  you,  I 
love  you.  And  you,  you  hate  me."  He  tried  to  stop 
her. 

Her  voice  sank  again.  "  Oh,  yes,  yes,  you  hate  me, 
else  why  would  you  go  away  without  one  word  to 
me  ?  Baldwin  has  told  you  of — of — of  something.  It 
is  all  true,  quite  true,  and  I  am  wicked,  wicked  ;  no 
woman  could  have  been  worse — and  you  hate  me." 

She  released  her  hold  upon  his  arm,  and  walking 
over  to  the  window  leant  against  it  and  wept  passion- 
ately. 

He  went  over  to  her  and  placed  his  hand  upon  her 
shoulder. 

"Look  here,  Loise,  I'm  very,  very  sorry  I  ever 
came  here  in  the  Malolo  " — her  shaking  figure  seemed 
to  shrink  at  the  words — "  for  I  love  you  too,  but, 
Loise — your  husband  was  my  father's  oldest  friend — 
and  mine." 

The  oval,  tear-swept  face  was  dangerously  close  to 
his  now,  and  set  his  blood  racing  again  in  all  the 
quick,  hot  madness  of  youth. 

"  What  is  that  to  me  ?  "  she  whispered  j  *'  I  love 
you." 

Brice  shut  his  fists  tightly  and  then — fetal  mistake 
— tried  to  be  angry  and  tender  at  the  same  moment. 

"  Ah,  but  Loise,  you,  as  well  as  I,  know  that  among 
English  people,  for  a  man  to  love  his  friend's  wife " 

Again  the  low  whisper — "  What  is  that  to  me — and 
you  ?     You    love    me,   you   say.     And,    we  are  not 


54  Baldwin  s  Loise. 

among  English  people.     I  have  my  mother's  heart — 
not  a  cold  English  heart." 

"  Loise,  Baldwin  is  my  friend.  He  looks  upon  me 
as  his  son,  and  he  trusts  me — and  trusts  you.  ...  I 
could  never  look  him  in  the  face  again.  ...  If  he 
were  any  other  man  I  wouldn't  care,  or  if,  if " 

She  lifted  her  face  from  his  shoulder.  "  Then  you 
only  lied  to  me.     You  don't  love  me  !  " 

That  made  him  reckless.  "  Love  you  !  By  God. 
I  love  you  so  that  if  you  were  any  other  man's  wife 

but  his "     He  looked  steadily  at   her   and   then, 

with  gentle  force,  tried  to  take  her  arm  from  his  neck. 

She  knew  now  that  he  was  the  stronger  of  the  two, 
and  yet  wished  to  hear  more. 

*'  Brice,  dear  Brice,"  she  bent  his  head  down  to  her 
lips,  "  if  Baldwin  died  would  you  marry  me  ?  " 

The  faintly  murmured  words  struck  him  like  a 
shot ;  she  still  holding  her  arms  around  him,  watched 
his  face. 

He  kissed  her  on  the  lips.  "  I  would  marry  you 
and  never  go  back  to  the  world  again,"  he  answered, 
in  the  blind  passion  of  the  moment. 

A  hot,  passionate  kiss  on  his  lips  and  she  was  gone, 
and  Brice,  with  throbbing  pulses  and  shame  in  his 
heart,  took  up  his  hat  and  went  out  upon  the  beach. 
He  couldn't  meet  Baldwin  just  then.  Other  men's 
wives  had  never  made  him  feel  such  a  miserable 
scoundrel  as  did  this  reckless  half-blood  with  the 
scarlet  lips  and  starry  eyes. 

•  .  •  •  • 

That  night  old  Baldwin  and  the  captain  of  the 
Malolo  got  thoroughly  drunk  in  the  orthodox  and 
time-honoured  Island  business  fashion.     Brice,  afraid 


Baldwin^ s  Loise.  ^^ 

of  "  making  an  ass  of  himself,"  was  glad  to  get  away, 
and  took  the  captain  on  board  at  midnight  in  Bald- 
win's boat,  and  at  the  mate's  invitation  remained  for 
breakfast. 

At  daylight  the  mate  got  the  Malolo  under  weigh, 
the  skipper,  with  aching  head,  sitting  up  in  his  bunk 
and  cursing  the  old  trader's  hospitality. 

When  the  vessel  was  well  outside  the  reef,  Brice 
bade  him  good-bye,  and  getting  his  boat  alongside 
started  for  the  shore. 

*  I  will — I  must — clear  out  of  this,"  he  was  telling 
himself  as  the  boat  swept  round  the  point  of  the  pas- 
sage on  the  last  sweep  of  the  ocean  swell.  "  I  can't 
stay  under  the  same  roof  with  him  day  after  day,  month 
after  month,  and  not  feel  my  folly  and  her  weakness. 
But  where  the  deuce  I  can  get  to  for  five  months  till 
the  schooner  comes  back,  I  don't  know.  There's  the 
Mission,  but  that  is  too  close  j  the  old  fellow  would 
only  bring  me  back  again  in  a  week." 

Suddenly  a  strange,  weird  cry  pealed  over  the  water 
from  the  native  village,  a  cry  that  to  him  was  mys- 
terious, as  well  as  mournful  and  blood-chilling. 

The  four  natives  who  pulled  the  boat  had  rested  on 
their  oars  the  instant  they  heard  the  cry,  and  with 
alarm  and  deep  concern  depicted  on  their  counte- 
nances were  looking  toward  the  shore. 

"  What  is  it,  boys  ?  "  said  Brice  in  English. 

Before  the  native  to  whom  he  spoke  could  answer, 
the  long,  loud  wailing  cry  again  burst  forth. 

"Some  man  die,"  said  the  native  who  pulled  stroke- 
oar  to  Brice — he  was  the  only  one  who  knew  English. 

Then  Brice,  following  the  looks  of  his  crew,  saw 


56  Baldwin* s  Loise. 

that  around  the  white  paling  fence  that  enclosed  Bald- 
win's house  was  gathered  a  great  concourse  of  natives, 
most  of  whom  were  sitting  on  the  ground. 

**  Give  way,  boys,"  he  said,  with  an  instinctive 
feeling  of  fear  that  something  dreadful  had  happened. 
In  another  five  minutes  the  boat  touched  the  sand  and 
Brice  sprang  out. 

Maturei  alone,  of  all  the  motionless,  silent  crowd 
that  gathered  around  the  house,  rose  and  walked  down 
to  him. 

*'  Oh,  white  man,  Tamu  is  dead  !  " 

He  felt  the  shock  terribly,  and  for  a  moment  or  two 
was  motionless  and  nerveless.  Then  the  prolonged 
wailing  note  of  grief  from  a  thousand  throats  again 
broke  out  and  brought  him  to  his  senses,  and  with 
hasty  step  he  opened  the  gate  and  went  in. 

With  white  face  and  shaking  limbs  Loise  met  him 
at  the  door  and  endeavoured  to  speak,  but  only  hollow, 
inarticulate  sounds  came  from  her  lips,  and  sitting 
down  on  a  cane  sofa  she  covered  her  face  with  her 
robe,  after  the  manner  of  the  people  of  the  island 
when  in  the  presence  of  death. 

Presently  the  door  of  Baldwin's  room  opened,  and 
the  white-haired  old  priest  came  out  and  laid  his  hand 
sympathetically  on  the  young  man's  arm,  and  drew 
him  aside. 

He  told  him  all  in  a  few  words.  An  hour  before 
daylight  Loise  and  the  boy  Maturei  had  heard  the  old 
trader  breathing  stertorously,  and  ere  they  could  raise 
him  to  a  sitting  position  he  had  breathed  his  last. 

Heart  disease,  the  good  Father  said.  And  he  was 
so  careless  a  man,  was  M.  Baldwin.     And  then  with 


BaldwlrCs  Loise.  ^J 

tears  in  his  eyes  the  priest  told  Brice  how,  from  the 
olden  times  when  Baldwin,  pretending  to  scoff  at  the 
efforts  of  the  missionaries,  had  yet  ever  been  their 
best  and  truest  friend. 

"  And  now  he  is  dead,  M.  Brice,  and  had  I  been 
but  a  little  sooner  I  could  have  closed  his  eyes.  I  was 
passing  in  my  boat,  hastening  to  take  the  mission 
letters  to  the  Malolo^  when  I  heard  the  tagi  (the  death 
wail)  of  the  people  here,  and  hastening  ashore  found 
he  had  just  passed  away." 

Sick  at  heart  as  he  was,  the  young  man  was  glad  of 
the  priest's  presence,  and  presently  together  they  went 
in  and  looked  at  the  still  figure  in  the  bedroom. 

When  they  returned  to  the  front  room  they  found 
Loise  had  gone. 

"  She  was  afraid  to  stay  in  the  house  of  death,"  said 
Maturei,  "and  has  gone  to  Vehaga "  (a  village  eight 
miles  away),  "and  these  are  her  words  to  the  Father 
and  to  the  friend  of  Tamu — '  Naught  have  I  taken 
from  the  house  of  Tamu,  and  naught  do  I  want ' — 
and  then  she  was  gone." 

The  old  priest  nodded  to  Brice — "Native  blood, 
native  blood,  M.  Brice.  Do  not,  I  pray  you,  mis- 
judge her.  She  only  does  this  because  she  knows  the 
village  feeling  against  her.  She  does  not  belong  to 
this  island,  and  the  people  here  resented,  in  a  quiet 
way,  her  marriage  with  my  old  friend.  She  is  not 
cruel  and  ungrateful  as  you  think.  It  is  but  her  way 
of  showing  these  natives  that  she  cares  not  to  benefit 
by  Baldwin's  death.  By  and  by  we  will  send  for 
her." 

After    Baldwin     had    been    buried    and     matters 


58  Baldwin* s  Loise. 

arranged,  Brice  and  the  priest,  and  a  colleague  from 
the  Mission,  read  the  will,  and  Brice  found  himself  in 
possession  of  some  two  or  three  thousand  dollars  in 
cash  and  as  much  in  trade.  The  house  at  Rikitea 
and  a  thousand  dollars  were  for  Loise. 

He  told  the  Fathers  to  send  word  over  to  Vehaga 
and  tell  Loise  that  he  only  awaited  her  to  come  and 
take  the  house  over  from  him.  As  for  himself  he 
would  gladly  accept  their  kind  invitation  to  remain 
at  the  Mission  as  their  guest  till  the  schooner 
returned. 

The  shock  of  his  friend's  death  had  all  but  cured 
him  of  his  passion,  and  he  felt  sure  now  of  his  own 
strength. 

•  •  •  •  • 

But  day  after  day,  and  then  week  after  week  passed, 
and  no  word  came  from  Vehaga,  till  one  evening  as 
he  leant  over  the  railing  of  the  garden,  looking  out 
upon  the  gorgeous  setting  of  the  sun  into  the  ocean, 
Maturei  came  paddling  across  the  smooth  waters  ot 
the  harbour,  and,  drawing  his  canoe  up  on  the  beach, 
the  boy  approached  the  white  man. 

"  See,"  he  said,  "  Loise  hath  sent  thee  this." 

He  unrolled  a  packet  of  broad,  dried  palm  leaves, 
and  taking  from  it  a  thick  necklet  of  sweet-smelling 
kurahini  buds,  placed  it  in  Brice's  hand. 

He  knew  its  meaning — it  was  the  gift  of  a  woman 
to  an  accepted  lover. 

The  perfume  of  the  flowers  brought  back  her  face 
to  him  in  a  moment.  There  was  a  brief  struggle  in 
his  mind  ;  and  then  home,  friends,  his  future  prospects 
in  the  great  outside  world,  went  to  the  wall,  and  the 
half-blood  had  won. 


BaldwirCs  Loise,  59 

Slowly  he  raised  the  token  and  placed  it  over  his 
head  and  round  his  neck. 


In  the  morning  she  came.  He  held  out  his  hand 
and  drew  her  to  him,  and  looking  down  into  her  eyes, 
he  kissed  her.  Her  lips  quivered  a  little,  and  then 
the  long  lashes  fell,  and  he  felt  her  tremble. 

"Loise,"  he  said  simply,  "  will  you  be  my  wife  ?  " 

She  glanced  up  at  him,  fearfully. 

*'  Would  you  marry  me  ?  " 

His  face  crimsoned — "Yes,  of  course.  You  were 
his  wife.  I  can't  forget  that.  And,  besides,  you  said 
once  that  you  loved  me." 

They  were  very  happy  for  five  or  six  years  down 
there  in  Rikitea.  They  had  one  child  born  to  them 
— a  girl  with  a  face  as  beautiful  as  her  mother's. 

Then  a  strange  and  deadly  epidemic,  unknown  to 
the  people  of  Rikitea,  swept  through  the  Paumotu 
Group,  from  Pitcairn  Island  to  Marutea,  and  in 
every  village,  on  every  palm-clad  atoll,  death  stalked, 
and  the  brown  people  sickened  and  shivered 
under  their  mat  coverings,  and  died.  And  from 
island  to  island,  borne  on  the  very  breath  of  the 
trade-wind,  the  terror  passed,  and  left  behind  it 
empty,  silent  clusters  of  houses,  nestling  under  the 
cocoanuts  ;  and  many  a  whale-ship  beating  back 
to  the  coast  of  South  America,  sailed  close  in  to 
the  shore  and  waited  for  the  canoes  to  come  off  with 
fruit  and  vegetables  ;  but  none  came,  for  the  canoes 
had  long  months  before  blistered  and  cracked  and 
rotted  under  the  fierce  rays  of  the  Paumotu  sun,  and 


6o  Baldwin* s  Loise. 

the  owners  lay  dead  in  their  thatched  houses  j  for  how 
could  the  dead  bury  the  dead  ? 

It  came  to  Rikitea,  and  Harry  Brice  and  the  priests 
of  the  Mission  went  from  village  to  village  trying  by 
such  means  as  lay  in  their  power  to  allay  the  deadly 
scourge.  Brice  had  seen  his  little  girl  die,  and  then 
Loise  was  smitten,  and  in  a  few  days  Brice  saw  the 
imprint  of  death  stamped  upon  her  features. 

As  he  sat  and  watched  by  her  at  night,  and  listened 
to  the  wild,  delirious  words  of  the  fierce  fever  that 
held  her  in  its  cruel  grasp,  he  heard  her  say  that  which 
chilled  his  very  heart's  blood.  At  first  he  thought 
it  to  be  but  the  strange  imaginings  of  her  weak  and 
fevered  brain.  But  as  the  night  wore  on  he  was 
undeceived. 

Just  as  daylight  began  to  shoot  its  streaks  of  red 
and  gold  through  the  plumed  palm-tops,  she  awoke 
from  a  fitful  and  tortured  slumber,  and  opened  her 
eyes  to  gaze  upon  the  haggard  features  of  her 
husband. 

"  Loise,"  he  said,  with  a  choking  voice, "  tell  me, 
for  God's  sake,  the  truth  about  Baldwin.  Did  you 
kill  him  r' 

She  put  her  thin,  wasted  hands  over  her  dark, 
burning  eyes,  and  Brice  saw  the  tears  run  down  and 
wet  the  pillow. 

Then  she  answered — 

"Yes,  I  killed  him;  for  I  loved  you,  and  that 
night  I  went  mad  !  " 

"  Don't  go  away  from  me,  Harry,"  she  said,  with 
hard,   panting  breaths ;  "  don't   let  me   die   by    my- 


Baldwiris  Loise,  6i 

self.  ...  I  will  soon  be  dead  now  ;  come  closer  to 
me,  I  will  tell  you  all." 

He  knelt  beside  her  and  listened.  She  told  him  all 
in  a  few  words.  As  Baldwin  lay  in  his  drunken  sleep, 
she  and  Maturei  had  pierced  him  to  the  heart  with 
one  of  the  long,  slender,  steel  needles  used  by  the 
natives  in  mat-making.  There  was  no  blood  to  be 
seen  in  the  morning,  A/Iaturei  was  too  cunning  for 
that. 

Brice  staggered  to  his  feet  and  tried  to  curse  her. 
The  last  grey  pallor  had  deepened  on  her  lips,  and 
they  moved  and  murmured,  "  It  was  because  I  loved 
you,  Harry." 

•  •  •  •  • 

The  sun  was  over  the  tops  of  the  cocoanuts  when 
the  gate  opened,  and  the  white-haired  old  priest  came 
in  and  laid  his  hand  gently  on  Brice  who  sat  with 
bowed  figure  and  hidden  face. 

"  How  is  your  wife  now,  my  good  friend  ?  "  he 
asked. 

Slowly  the  trader  raised  his  face,  and  his  voice 
sounded  like  a  sob. 

"  Dead  ;  thank  God  !  " 

With  softened  tread  the  old  man  passed  through  to 
the  inner  room,  and  taking  the  cold  hands  of  B rice's 
wife  tenderly  within  his  own,  he  clasped  them 
together  and  placed  the  emblem  of  Christ  upon  the 
quiet  bosom. 


AT  A  KAFA-DRINKING 


At    a    Kava-Dr inking. 

The  first  cool  breaths  of  the  land  breeze,  chilled  by 
its  passage  through  the  dew-laden  forest,  touched 
our  cheeks  softly  that  night  as  we  sat  on  the 
traders'  verandah,  facing  the  white,  shimmering  beach, 
smoking  and  watching  the  native  children  at  play, 
and  listening  for  the  first  deep  boom  of  the  wooden 
logo  or  bell  that  would  send  them  racing  homewards 
to  their  parents  and  evening  prayer. 

•  •  •  •  • 

"  There  it  is,"  said  our  host,  who  sat  in  the  farthest 
corner,  with  his  long  legs  resting  by  the  heels  on  the 
white  railing  ;  "  and  now  you'll  see  them  scatter." 

The  loud  cries  and  shrill  laughter  came  to  a  sudden 
stop  as  the  boom  of  the  logo  reached  the  players,  and 
then  a  clear,  boyish  voice  reached  us — "  Ua  ta  le  logo  " 
(the  bell  has  sounded).  Like  smoke  before  the  gale 
the  lithe,  half-naked  figures  fled  silently  in  twos  and 
threes  between  the  cocoanuts,  and  the  beach  lay 
deserted. 

•  •  •  •  • 

One  by  one  the  lights  gleamed  brightly  through 
the  trees  as  the  women  piled  the  fires  in  each  house 
with    broken    cocoanut    shells.     There  was    but   the 

6  6s 


66  At  a  Kava- Drinking. 

faintest  breath  of  wind,  and  through  the  open  sides 
of  most  of  the  houses  not  enough  to  flicker  the  steady 
light,  as  the  head  of  the  family  seated  himself  (or 
herself)  close  to  the  fire,  and,  hymn-book  in  hand, 
led  off  the  singing.  Quite  near  us  was  a  more  pre- 
tentious-looking structure  than  the  others,  and  looking 
down  upon  it  we  saw  that  the  gravelled  floor  was 
covered  with  fine,  clean  mats,  and  arranged  all  round 
the  sides  of  the  house  were  a  number  of  camphorwood 
boxes,  always — in  a  Samoan  house — the  outward  and 
visible  sign  of  a  well-to-do  man.  There  was  no  fire 
lighted  here  ;  placed  in  the  centre  of  the  one  room 
there  stood  a  lamp  with  a  gorgeous-looking  shade, 
of  many  colours.  This  was  the  chief's  house,  and 
the  chief  of  Aleipata  was  one  of  the  strong  men  of 
Samoa — both  politically  and  physically.  Two  of  our 
party  on  the  verandah  were  strangers  to  Samoa,  and 
they  drew  their  chairs  nearer,  and  gazed  with  interest 
at  the  chief  and  his  immediate  following  as  they 
proceeded  with  their  simple  service.  There  were 
quite  a  number  of  the  aua-luma  (unmarried  women) 
of  the  village  present  in  the  chief's  house  that 
evening,  and  as  their  tuneful  voices  blend  in  an 
evening  hymn — "  Matou  te  nau  e  faafetai  " — we 
wished  that  instead  of  four  verses  there  had  been 
ten. 

"  Can  you  tell  us,  Lester,"  said  one  of  the  strangers 
to  our  host,  "  the  meaning  of  the  last  words  ? — they 
came  out  so  clearly  that  I  believe  I've  caught  them," 
and  to  our  surprise  he  sang  the  last  line — 
la  matou  moe  tau  ia  te  oe, 

"Well,  now,  I  don't  know  if  I  can.    Samoan  hymns 


At  a  Kava-Drinking.  67 

puzzle  me  ;  you  see  the  language  used  in  addressing 
the  Deity  is  vastly  different  to  that  used  ordinarily, 
but  I  take  it  that  the  words  you  so  correctly  repeated 
mean,  'Let  us  sleep  in  peace  with  Thee.'  Curious 
people  these  Samoans,"  he  muttered,  more  to  himself 
than  for  us  :  "soon  be  as  hypocritical  as  the  average 
white  man.  '  Let  us  sleep  in  peace  with  Thee,'  and 
that  fellow  (the  chief),  his  two  brothers,  and  about  a 
paddockful  of  young  Samoan  bucks  haven't  slept  at  all 
for  this  two  weeks.  All  the  night  is  spent  in  counting 
cartridges,  melting  lead  for  bullets,  and  cleaning  their 
arms,  only  knocking  off  for  a  drink  of  kava.  Well, 
I  suppose,"  he  continued,  turning  to  us,  "they're  all 
itching  to  fight,  and  as  soon  as  the  U.S.S.  Resacca 
leaves  Apia  they'll  commence  in  earnest,  and  us  poor 
devils  of  traders  will  be  left  here  doing  nothing  and 
cursing  this  infernal  love  of  fighting,  which  is  inborn 
with  Samoans  and  a  part  of  their  natural  cussedness 
which,  if  the  Creator  hadn't  given  it  to  them,  would 
have  put  many  a  dollar  into  my  pocket." 

"  Father,"  said  a  voice  that  came  up  to  us  from  the 
gloom  of  the  young  cocoanuts'  foliage  at  the  side  of 
the  house,  "  Felipe  is  here,  and  wants  to  know  if  he 
may  come  up  and  speak  to  the  alii  papalagi  (white 
gentlemen)." 

"  Right  you  are,  Felipe,  my  lad,"  said  the  trader  in 
a  more  than  usual  kindly  voice,  "bring  him  up, 
Atalina,  and  then  run  away  to  the  chief's  and  get 
some  of  the  aua-luma  to  come  over  with  you  and 
make  a  bowl  of  kava." 

"  Now,  Doctor  L ^,"  Lester  continued,  address- 
ing himself  to  one  of  his  guests,  the  surgeon  of  an 


68  At  a  Kava-Drinking. 

American  war  vessel  then  stationed  in  Samoa,  and  a 
fellow-countryman  of  his,  "  I'll  show  you  as  fine  a 
specimen  of  manhood  and  intelligence  as  God  ever 
made,  although  he  has  got  a  tanned  hide." 

•  •  •  •  • 

The  native  that  ascended  the  steps  and  stood  before 
us  with  his  hat  in  his  hand  respectfully  saluting,  was  in- 
deed, as  Lester  called  him,  "a  fine  specimen."  Clothed 
only  in  a  blue  and  white  lava  lava  or  waist-cloth,  his 
clean-cut  limbs,  muscular  figure,  and  skin  like  polished 
bronze,  stood  revealed  in  the  full  light  that  now 
flooded  room  and  verandah  from  the  lamp  lit  in  the 
sitting-room.  The  finely-plaited  Manhiki  hat  held 
in  his  right  hand  seemed  somewhat  out  of  place  with 
the  rest  of  his  attire,  and  was  evidently  not  much 
worn.  Probably  Felipe  had  merely  brought  it  for 
the  occasion,  as  a  symbol  to  us  of  his  superior  tastes 
and  ideas. 

He  shook  hands  with  us  all  round,  and  then,  at 
Lester's  invitation,  followed  us  inside,  and  sat  down 
cross-legged  on  the  mats  and  courteously  awaited  us 
to  talk  to  him.  The  American  surgeon  offered  him 
a  cigar,  which  he  politely  declined,  and  produced  from 
the  folds  of  his  lava  lava  a  bundle  of  banana-leaf 
cigarettes,  filled  with  strong  tobacco.  One  of  these, 
at  a  nod  from  the  trader,  he  lit,  and  commenced  to 
smoke. 

•  •  •  •  • 

In  a  few  minutes  we  heard  the  crunching  of  the 
gravelled  path  under  bare  feet,  and  then  some  three 
or  four  of  the  aua-luma — the  kava-chewing  girls — 
ascended  the  steps  and  took  up  their  position  by  the 
huge  wooden  kava   bowl.     As    the  girls,  under    the 


At  a  Kava-Drinking.  69 

careful  supervision  of  the  trader's  wife,  prepared  the 
drink,  we  fell  into  a  general  conversation. 

"I  wonder  now,"  said  the  doctor  to  the  trader, 
"  that  you,  Lester,  who,  by  your  own  showing,  are 
by  no  means  infatuated  with  the  dreamy  monotony 
of  island  life,  can  yet  stay  here,  year  after  year,  seeing 
nothing  and  hearing  nothing  of  the  world  that  lies 
outside  these  lonely  islands.  Have  you  no  desire  at 
all  to  go  back  again  into  the  world  ?  " 

A  faint  movement — the  index  of  some  rapidly 
passing  emotion — for  a  moment  disturbed  the  calm, 
placid  features  of  Lester,  as  he  answered  quietly : 
"  No,  doctor,  I  don't  think  it's  likely  I'll  ever  see 
the  outside  world,  as  you  call  it,  again.  I've  had  my 
hopes  and  ambitions,  like  every  one  else ;  but  they 
didn't  pan  out  as  I  expected,  .  .  .  and  then  I  became 
Lester  the  Trader,  and  as  Lester  the  Trader  I'll 
die,  have  a  whitey-brown  crowd  at  my  funeral ;  and, 
if  you  came  here  ten  years  afterwards,  the  people 
couldn't  even  tell  you  where  I  was  planted." 

The  doctor  nodded.  "Just  so.  Like  all  native 
races,  their  affections  and  emotions  are  deep  but 
transient — no  better  in  that  way  than  the  average 
American  nigger." 

The  kava  was  finished  now,  and  was  handed  round 
to  us  by  the  slender  graceful  hands  of  the  trader's 
little  daughter.  As  Felipe,  the  last  to  drink,  handed 
back  the  ipu  to  the  girl,  his  eyes  lit  up,  and  he  spoke 
to  our  host,  addressing  him,  native  fashion,  by  his 
Christian  name,  and  speaking  in  his  own  tongue. 

"  How  is  it,  Tiaki  (Jack),  that  I  hear  thee  tell 
these  thy  friends  that  we  of  the  brown  skins  have 
but  shallow  hearts  and  forget  quickly  ?     Dost  think 


JO  At  a  Kava-Drinking. 

that  if,  when  thy  time  comes,  and  thou  goest,  that 
thy  wife  and  child  will  not  grieve  ?  Hast  thou  not 
heard  of  our  white  man  who,  when  he  died,  yet  left 
his  name  upon  our  hearts  ? — and  yet  we  were  in  those 
days  heathens  and  followers  of  our  own  gods." 

The  trader  nodded  kindly,  and  turned  to  us.  "  Do 
you  want  to  hear  a  yarn  about  one  of  the  old  style  of 
white  men  that  used  to  live  like  fighting-cocks  in 
Samoa  ?  Felipe  here  has  rounded  on  me  for  saying 
that  his  countrymen  soon  forget,  and  has  brought  up 
this  wandering  papalagi  tafea  (beachcomber)  as  an 
instance  of  how  the  natives  will  stick  to  a  man  once 
he  proves  himself  a  man." 


II. 

"  It  was  the  tenth  year  after  the  Cruel  Captain 
with  the  three  ships  had  anchored  in  Apia,i  and  when 
we  of  Aleipata  were  at  war  with  the  people  of  Fagaloa. 
In  those  days  we  had  no  white  man  in  this  town  and 
longed  greatly  to  get  one.  But  they  were  few  in 
Samoa  then ;  one  was  there  at  Tiavea,  who  had  fled 
from  a  man-of-war  of  England,  one  at  Saluafata,  and 
perhaps  one  or  two  more  at  Tutuila  or  Savaii — that 
was  all. 

"My  father's  name  was  Lauati.  He,  with  his 
mother,  lived  on  the  far  side  of  the  village,  away 
from  the  rest  of  the  houses.  There  were  no  others 
living  in  the  house  with  them,  for  my  father's  mother 
was  very  poor,  and  all  day  long  she  laboured — some- 

*  Commodore  Wilkes,  in  command  of  the  famous  United  States 
Exploring  Expedition,  1836-40.  He  was  a  noted  martinet,  and  wa» 
called  Le  alii  Saua  (the  Cruel  Captain), 


At  a  Kava-Drinking.  71 

times  at  making  mats,  and  sometimes  at  beating  out 
siapo  (tappa)  cloth.  As  the  mats  were  made,  and  the 
tappa  was  bleached,  and  figures  and  patterns  drawn 
upon  it,  she  rolled  them  up  and  put  them  away  over- 
head on  the  beams  of  the  house,  for  she  was  eaten 
up  with  poverty,  and  these  mats  and  tappa  cloth  was 
she  gathering  together  so  that  she  might  be  able  to 
pay  for  my  father's  tattooing.  And  as  she  worked  on 
the  shore,  so  did  my  father  toil  on  the  sea,  for  although 
he  was  not  yet  tattooed  he  was  skilled  more  than  any 
other  youth  in  sisu  atu  (bonita  catching).  Sometimes 
the  chief,  who  was  a  greedy  man,  would  take  all  his 
fish  and  leave  him  none  for  himself  to  take  home  to 
his  house.  Sometimes  he  would  give  him  one,  and  then 
my  father  would  cut  off  a  piece  for  his  mother,  and  take 
the  rest  and  sell  it  for  taro  and  bread-fruit.  And  all  this 
time  he  worked,  worked  with  his  mother,  so  that  he 
would  have  enough  to  pay  for  his  tattooing,  for  to 
reach  his  age  and  not  be  tattooed  is  thought  a  disgrace. 


''  Now,  in  the  chief's  house  was  a  young  girl  named 
Uluvao.  She  used  to  meet  my  father  by  stealth,  for 
the  chief — who  was  her  uncle — designed  to  give  her 
in  marriage  to  a  man  of  Siumu,  who  was  a  little  chief, 
and  had  asked  him  for  her.  So  Uluvao,  who  dreaded 
her  uncle's  wrath,  would  creep  out  at  night  from  his 
house,  and  going  down  to  the  beach  swim  along  the 
shore  till  she  came  to  the  lonely  place  where  my 
father  lived.  His  mother  would  await  her  coming 
on  the  beach,  and  then  these  three  would  sit  together 
in  the  house  and  talk.  If  a  footstep  sounded,  then 
the  girl  would   flee,  for  she  knew  her  uncle's   club 


72  At  a  Kava-Dr inking. 

would  soon  bite  into  my  father's  brain  did  he  know 
of  these  stolen  meetings. 

•  •  •  •  • 

"One  day  it  came  about  that  a  grezt /ono  (meeting) 
was  to  be  held  at  Falealili,  and  Tuialo,  the  chief,  and 
many  other  chiefs,  and  their  tulafale^  or  talking  men, 
set  out  to  cross  the  mountains  to  Falealili.  Six  days 
would  they  be  away,  and  Uluvao  and  my  father  re- 
joiced, for  they  could  now  meet  and  speak  openly,  for 
the  fear  of  the  chief's  face  was  not  before  them,  and 
the  people  of  the  village  knew  my  father  loved  the 
girl,  so  when  they  saw  them  together  they  only 
smiled,  or  else  turned  their  faces  another  way.  That 
night,  in  the  big  council  house,  there  was  a  great 
number  of  the  young  men  and  women  gathered 
together,  and  they  danced  and  sang,  and  much  kava 
was  drunk.  Presently  the  sister  of  the  chief,  who 
was  a  woman  with  a  bitter  tongue,  came  to  the  house, 
and  saw  and  mocked  at  my  father,  and  called  him  a 
'naked  wretch.'  (Thou  knowest,  Tiaki,  if  a  man 
be  not  tattooed  we  called  him  naked.) 

"  'Alas ! '  said  my  father,  '  I  am  poor  j  oh,  lady,  how 
can  I  help  it  ? ' 

"  The  old  woman's  heart  softened.  '  Get  thee  out 
upon  the  sea  and  catch  a  fat  turtle  for  a  gift  to  my 
brother,  and  thou  shalt  be  tattooed  when  he  returns,' 
she  said. 

"The  people  laughed,  for  they  knew  that  turtle 
were  not  to  be  caught  at  a  silly  woman's  bidding. 
But  my  father  rose  up  and  went  out  into  the  darkness 
towards  his  house.  As  he  walked  on  the  sand  his 
name  was  called,  and  Uluvao  ran  by  his  side. 

" '  Lauati,'  she  said,  '  let  me  come  with  thee.     Let 


At  a  Kava-Dr inking.  73 

us  hasten  and  get  thy  canoe,  and  seek  a  turtle  on 
Nu'ulua  and  Nu'utele,  for  the  night  is  dark,  and  we 
may  find  one.' 

"  My  father  took  her  hand,  and  they  ran  and 
launched  the  canoe. 

•  •  •  •  • 

"My  father  paddled,  Uluvao  sat  in  the  bow  of  the 
canoe.  The  night  was  very  dark,  and  she  was 
frightened,  for  in  the  waters  hereabout  are  many 
tanifa,  the  thick,  short  shark,  that  will  leap  out  of  the 
water  and  fall  on  a  canoe  and  crush  it,  so  that  those 
who  paddle  may  be  thrown  out  and  devoured.  And 
as  she  trembled  she  looked  out  at  the  shore  of  the  two 
islands,  which  were  now  close  to,  and  said  to  my 
father,  '  Lo  !  what  is  this  ?  I  see  a  light  as  of  a  little 
fire.' 

"Lauati  ceased  to  paddle  and  looked.  And  there, 
between  the  trunks  of  the  cocoanuts,  he  saw  the  faint 
gleam  of  a  little  fire,  and  something,  as  of  a  figure, 
that  moved. 

"  The  girl  Uluvao  had  a  quick  wisdom.  '  Ah,'  said 
she,  *  perhaps  it  is  the  war  canoes  (taumualua)  from 
Falifa.  Those  dogs  hath  learnt  that  all  our  men  are 
gone  away  to  Falealili  to  th&fono^  and  they  have  come 
here  to  the  islands  to  eat  and  rest,  so  that  they  may 
fall  upon  our  town  when  it  is  dawn,  and  slay  us  all. 
Let  us  back,  ere  it  is  too  late.' 

"  But  as  she  spoke  she  looked  into  the  water,  and 
my  father  looked  too  ;  and  they  both  trembled.  Deep 
down  in  the  blackness  of  the  sea  was  it  that  they  saw 
— yet  it  quickly  came  nearer  and  nearer,  like  unto  a 
great  flame  of  white  fire.  It  was  a  tanifa.  Like 
flashes  of  lightning  did  my  father  dash  his  paddle  into 


74  ^t  a  Kaija-Drinking. 

the  water  and  urge  the  canoe  to  the  land,  for  he  knew 
that  when  the  tanifa  had  come  to  the  surface  it  would 
look  and  then  dive,  and  when  it  came  up  again  would 
spring  upon  and  devour  them  both. 

"'It  is  better  to  give  our  heads  to  the  men  of  Falifa 
than  for  us  to  go  into  the  belly  of  the  shark,'  he  said, 
*and  it  may  be  we  can  land,  and  they  see  us  not,' 
And  so  with  fear  gnawing  at  their  vitals  the  canoe 
flew  along,  and  the  streak  of  fire  underneath  was  close 
upon  them  when  they  struck  the  edge  of  the  coral 
and  knew  they  were  safe. 

"  They  dragged  the  canoe  over  the  reef  and  then  got 
in  again,  and  paddled  softly  along  till  they  passed  the 
light  of  the  fire,  and  then  they  landed  on  a  little  beach 
about  a  hundred  gafa  (fathoms)  away.  Then  again 
Uluvao,  who  was  a  girl  of  wisdom,  spoke. 

"  *  Listen,'  she  said,  *  O  man  of  my  heart.  Let  us 
creep  through  the  bushes  and  look.  It  may  be  that 
these  men  of  Falifa  are  tired  and  weary,  and  sleep  like 
hogs.  Take  thou,  then,  O  Lauati,  thy  shark  club 
and  knife  from  the  canoe,  and  perchance  we  may  fall 
upon  one  that  sleepest  away  from  the  rest,  then  shalt 
thou  strike,  and  thou  and  I  drag  him  away  into  the 
bushes  and  take  his  head.  Then,  ere  it  is  well  dawn, 
we  will  be  back  in  the  town,  and  Tuialo  will  no  longer 
keep  me  from  thee,  for  the  head  of  a  Falifa  man  will 
win  his  heart  better  than  a  fat  turtle,  and  I  will  be 
wife  to  thee.' 

"  My  father  was  pleased  at  her  words.  So  they  crept 
like  snakes  along  the  dewy  ground.  When  they 
came  to  a  jagged  boulder  covered  with  vines,  that  was 


At  a  Kava-Drinking.  J^ 

near  unto  the  fire,  they  looked  and  saw  but  one  man, 
and,  lo !  he  was  a  papalagi — a  white  man.  And  then, 
until  it  was  dawn,  my  father  and  the  girl  hid  behind 
the  jagged  rock  and  watched. 

"  The  white  man  was  sitting  on  the  sand,  with  his 
face  clasped  in  his  hands.  At  his  feet  lay  another 
man,  with  his  white  face  turned  up  to  the  sky,  and 
those  that  watched  saw  that  he  was  dead.  He  who 
sat  over  the  dead  man  was  tall  and  thin,  and  his  hands 
were  like  the  talons  of  the  great  fish  eagle,  so  thin 
and  bony  were  they.  His  garments  were  ragged  and 
old,  and  his  feet  were  bare  ;  and  as  my  father  looked 
at  him  his  heart  became  pitiful,  and  he  whispered  to 
Uluvao,  '  Let  us  call  out.  He  is  but  weak,  and  I 
can  master  him  if  he  springs  upon  me.  Let  us 
speak.' 

"  But  Uluvao  held  him  back.  *  Nay,'  she  said,  'he 
may  have  a  gun  and  shoot.' 

"  So  they  waited  till  the  sun  rose. 

•  •  .  •  • 

"  The  white  man  stood  and  looked  about.  Then  he 
walked  down  to  the  beach,  and  my  father  and  the  girl 
saw  lying  on  the  rocks  a  little  boat.  The  man  went 
to  the  side,  and  put  in  his  hand  and  brought  out  some- 
thing in  his  hand,  and  came  back  and  sat  down  again 
by  the  face  of  the  dead.  He  had  gone  to  the  boat  for 
food,  and  my  father  saw  him  place  a  biscuit  to  his 
mouth  and  commence  to  eat.  But  ere  he  swallowed 
any  it  fell  from  his  hand  upon  the  sand  and  he  threw 
himself  upon  the  body  of  the  dead  man  and  wept,  and 
his  tears  ran  down  over  the  face  that  was  cold  and 
were  drank  up  by  the  sand. 


"jd  At  a  Kava-Dr inking, 

"  Then  Uluvao  began  to  weep,  and  my  father  stood 
up  and  called  out  to  the  white  man  Talofa  ! 

"He  gazed  at  them  and  spoke  not,  but  let  them 
come  close  to  him,  and  pointing  to  him  who  lay  on 
the  sand,  he  covered  his  face  with  his  hands  and  bowed 
his  head.  Then  Lauati  ran  and  climbed  a  cocoanut 
tree  and  brought  him  two  young  nuts  and  made  him 
drink,  and  Uluvao  got  broad  leaves  and  covered  over 
the  face  of  the  dead  from  the  hot  sun.  Not  one  word 
of  our  tongue  could  he  speak,  but  yet  from  signs  that 
he  made  Lauati  and  the  girl  knew  that  he  wished  to 
bury  the  dead  man.  So  they  two  dug  a  deep  grave 
in  the  sand,  far  up  on  the  bank,  where  it  lay  soft  and 
deep  and  covered  with  vines.  When  it  was  finished 
they  lifted  the  dead  white  man  and  laid  him  beside  it. 
And  as  they  looked  upon  him  the  other  came  and 
knelt  beside  it  and  spoke  many  words  into  the  ear 
that  heard  not,  and  Uluvao  wept  again  to  see  his  grief. 
At  last  they  laid  him  in  the  grave  and  all  three  threw 
in  the  sand  and  filled  it  up. 

"Then  these  two  took  the  strange  white  man  by 
the  hand  and  led  him  away  into  a  little  hut  that  was 
sometimes  used  by  those  who  came  to  the  island  to 
fish.  They  made  him  eat  and  then  sleep,  and  while 
he  slept  they  carried  up  the  things  out  of  the  boat  and 
put  them  in  the  house  beside  him. 

•  •  .  •  • 

"  When  the  sun  was  high  in  the  heavens,  the  white 
man  awoke,  and  my  father  took  his  hand  and  pointed 
to  the  boat,  and  then  to  the  houses  across  the  sea. 
He  bent  his  head  and  followed,  and  they  all  got  into 
the  boat,  and  hoisted  the  sail.  When  the  boat  came 
close  to  the  passage  of  Aleipata,  the  people  ran  from 


At  a  Kava- Drinking.  jj 

out  their  houses,  and  stood  upon  the  beach  and 
wondered.  And  Lauati  and  Uluvao  laughed  and  sang, 
and  called  out :  '  Ho,  ho,  people  !  we  have  brought 
a  great  gift — a  white  man  from  over  the  sea.  Send 
word  quickly  to  Tuialo  that  he  may  return  and  see 
this  our  white  man,'  and,  as  the  boat  touched  the 
sand,  the  old  woman,  the  sister  of  Tuialo,  came  up, 
and  said  to  Lauati,  '  Well  hast  thou  done,  O  lucky 
one  !  Better  is  this  gift  of  a  white  man  than  many 
turtle.* 

"  Then  she  took  the  stranger  to  her  house,  and  pigs 
and  fowls  were  killed,  and  yams  and  taro  cooked,  and 
a  messenger  sent  to  Tuialo  to  hasten  back  quickly, 
and  see  this  gift  from  the  gods.  For  they  were  quick 
to  see  that  in  the  boat  were  muskets  and  powder  and 
bullets,  and  all  the  people  rejoiced,  for  they  thought 
that  this  white  man  could  mend  for  them  many  guns 
that  were  broken  and  useless,  and  help  them  to  fight 
against  the  men  ot  Falifa. 

.  •  •  •  • 

"In  two  days  Tuialo  came  back, and  he  made  much 
of  the  white  man,  and  Uluvao  he  gave  to  my  father 
for  wife.  And  for  the  white  man  were  the  softest 
mats  and  the  best  pieces  of  siapo^  and  he  lived  for 
nearly  the  space  of  two  years  in  the  chief's  house. 
And  all  this  time  he  worked  at  making  boats  and 
mending  the  broken  guns  and  muskets,  and  little  by 
little  the  words  of  our  tongue  came  to  him,  and  he 
learned  to  tell  us  many  things.  Yet  at  night-time  he 
would  always  come  to  my  father's  house  and  sit  with 
him  and  talk,  and  sometimes  Uluvao  would  make 
kava  for  him  and  my  father. 

"At  about  the  end  of  the  second  year,  there  came  a 


78  At  a  Kava-Drinking, 

whaleship,  and  Tuialo,  and  the  white  man,  whom  we 
called  Tui-fana^  '  the  gun-mender,'  went  out  to  her, 
and  took  with  them  many  pigs  and  yams  to  exchange 
for  guns  and  powder.  When  the  buying  and  selling 
was  over,  the  captain  of  the  ship  gave  Tui-fana  a  gun 
with  two  barrels — bright  was  it  and  new,  and  Tuialo, 
the  chief,  was  eaten  up  with  envy,  and  begged  his 
white  man  for  the  gun,  but  he  said:  'Nay,  not  now; 
when  we  are  in  the  house  we  will  talk.' 

"  Like  as  a  swarm  of  flies,  the  people  gathered  round 
the  council-house  to  see  the  guns  and  the  powder  and 
the  swords  that  had  been  brought  from  the  ship. 
And  in  the  middle  of  the  house  sat  Tui-fana  with  the 
gun  with  two  barrels  in  his  hand. 

"When  all  the  chiefs  had  come  in  and  sat  down 
Tuialo  came.  His  face  was  smiles,  but  his  heart  was 
full  of  bitterness  towards  Tui-fana,  and  as  he  spoke  to 
the  people  and  told  them  of  the  words  that  had  been 
spoken  by  the  captain  of  the  ship,  he  said,  *  And  see 
this  white  man,  this  Tui-fana,  who  hath  grown  rich 
among  us,  is  as  greedy  as  a  Tongan,  and  keepeth  for 
himself  a  new  gun  with  two  barrels.' 

"The  white  stood  up  and  spoke  :  '  Nay,  not  greedy 
am  I.  Take,  O  chief,  all  I  have  ;  my  house,  my 
mats,  my  land,  and  the  wife  thou  gavest  me,  but  yet 
would  I  say,  "  Let  me  keep  this  gun  with  the  two 
barrels."  ' 

"Tuialo  was  eaten  up  with  greed,  yet  was  his  mind 
set  on  the  gun,  so  he  answered,  '  Nay,  that  were  to 
make  thee  as  poor  as  when  thou  comest  to  us.  Give 
me  the  gun,  'tis  all  I  ask.' 

'* '  It  is  not  mine  to  give,'  he  answered.     Then  he 


At  a  Kava-Drinking.  79 

rose  and  spoke  to  the  people.  *  See,'  said  he, 
*Tuialo,  the  chief,  desires  this  gun,  and  I  say  it 
is  not  mine  to  give,  for  to  Lauati  did  I  promise  such 
a  gun  a  year  gone  by.  This,  then,  will  I  do.  Unto 
Tuialo  will  I  give  my  land,  my  house,  and  all  that 
is  mine,  but  to  Lauati  I  give  the  gun,  for  so  I 
promised.' 

"  Then  fierce  looks  passed  between  the  chief  and  the 
white  man,  and  the  people  surged  together  to  and  fro, 
for  they  were  divided,  some  for  the  fear  of  the  chief, 
and  some  for  the  love  of  the  white  man.  But  most 
were  for  that  Lauati  should  keep  the  gun.  And  so 
Tuialo,  seeing  that  the  people's  hearts  were  against 
him,  put  on  a  smooth  face,  and  came  to  the  white  man 
and  said — 

" '  Thou  art  as  a  son  to  me.  Lauati  shall  keep  the 
gun,  and  thou  shalt  keep  thy  house  and  lands.  I 
will  take  nothing  from  thee.  Let  us  be  for  ever 
friends.' 

"  Then  the  white  said  to  the  chief, '  O  chief,  gladly 
will  I  give  thee  all  I  have,  but  this  man,  Lauati,  is  as 
my  brother,  and  I  promised ' 

"  But  Tuialo  put  his  hand  on  the  white  man's 
mouth,  and  said,  '  Say  no  more,  my  son ;  I  was  but 
angered.' 

"Yet  see  now  his  wickedness.  For  that  night, 
when  my  father  and  Uluvao,  my  mother,  were  sitting 
with  the  white  man  and  his  wife,  and  drinking  kava, 
there  suddenly  sprang  in  upon  them  ten  men,  who 
stood  over  them  with  clubs  poised.  They  were  the 
body-men  of  Tuialo. 


8o  At  a  Kava-Drinking. 

"*  Drink  thy  kava,'  said  one  to  the  white  man,  'and 
then  come  out  to  die.' 


*'  Ah,  he  was  a  man  !  He  took  the  cup  of  kava  from 
the  hands  of  his  wife's  sister,  and  said — 

" '  It  is  well.  All  men  must  die.  But  yet  would  I 
see  Tuialo  before  the  club  falls.' 

"  The  chief  but  waited  outside,  and  he  came. 

" '  Must  I  die  ?  '  said  the  white  man. 

"'Ay,'  said  Tuialo.  'Two  such  as  thee  and  I 
cannot  live  at  the  same  time.  Thou  art  almost  as 
great  a  man  as  I.' 

"The  white  man  bent  his  head.  Then  he  put  out 
his  hand  to  my  father  and  said,  '  Farewell,  O  my 
friend.' 

"  Lauati,  my  father,  fell  at  the  chief's  feet.  '  Take 
thou  the  gun,  O  chief,  but  spare  his  life.' 

"  Tuialo  laughed.  '  The  gun  will  I  take,  Lauati, 
but  his  life  I  must  have  also.' 

"  '  My  life  for  his,'  said  my  father. 

" '  And  mine,'  said  Uluvao,  my  mother. 

" '  And  mine  also,'  said  Manini,  the  white  man's 
wife  ;  and  both  she  and  Taulaga,  her  sister,  bent  their 
knees  to  the  chief. 

"  The  white  man  tried  to  spring  up,  but  four  strong 
men  held  him. 

"  Then  Tuialo  looked  at  the  pair  who  knelt  before 
him.     He  stroked  his  club,  and  spoke  to  his  body-men. 

"'Bring  them  all  outside.'  They  went  together  to 
the  beach.  '  Brave  talkers  ye  be,'  said  he ;  '  who 
now  will  say  "  I  die  for  the  white  man  "  ? ' 

'"  Nay,  heed  them  not,  Tuialo,'  said  the  white  man. 
*  On  me  alone  let  the  club  fall.' 


At  a  Kava-Drinking.  8i 

"  But  the  chief  gave  him  no  answer,  looking  only  at 
my  father  and  the  three  women. 

"  *  My  life,'  said  Taulaga,  the  girl ;  and  she  knelt 
on  the  sand. 

"  The  club  swung  round  and  struck  her  on  the  side 
of  her  head,  and  it  beat  it  in.  She  fell,  and  died 
quickly. 

" '  Oho,'  mocked  Tuialo,  '  is  there  but  one  life 
ol^red  for  so  great  a  man  as  Tiufana  ?  ' 

"  Lauati  fell  before  him.  '  Spare  me  not,  O  chief, 
if  my  hfe  but  saves  his.' 

"And  again  the  club  swung,  and  Lauati,  my  father, 
died  too,  and  as  he  fell  his  blood  mixed  with  that  of 
Taulaga. 

"  And  then  Uluvao  and  Manini,  placing  some  little 
faith  in  his  mocking  words,  knelt,  and  their  blood  too 
poured  out  on  the  ground,  and  the  three  women  and 
my  father  lay  in  a  heap  together. 

"  Now  I,  Felipe,  was  but  a  child,  and  when  my 
mother  had  gone  to  kneel  under  the  club  she  had 
placed  me  under  a  fetan  tree  near  by.  The  chief's 
eye  fell  on  me,  and  a  man  took  me  up  and  carried  me 
to  him. 

"  Then  the  white  man  said,  '  Hurt  not  the  child,  O 
chief,  or  I  curse  thee  before  I  die,  and  thou  wastest 
away.' 

"  So  Tuialo  spared  me. 

"  Then  the  chief  came  to  the  white  man,  and  the 
two  who  held  his  hands  pulled  them  well  apart,  and 
Tuialo  once  more  swung  his  blood-dyed  club.  It 
fell,  and  the  white  man's  head  fell  upon  his  breast." 


MRS.  LIARDET:  A  SOUTH  SEA 
GRADING  EPISODE 


Mrs,    Liardet :    a     South    Sea 
Trading     Episode, 

Captain  Dave  Liardet,  of  the  trading  schooner 
Motutakea^  of  Sydney,  was  sitting  propped  up  in  his 
bunk  smoking  his  last  pipe.  His  very  last..  He  knew 
that,  for  the  Belgian  doctor-naturalist,  his  passenger, 
had  just  said  so  ;  and  besides,  one  look  at  the  gaping 
hole  in  his  right  side,  that  he  had  got  two  days  before 
at  La  Vandola,  in  the  Admiralties,  from  the  broad- 
bladed  obsidian  native  knife,  had  told  him  he  had 
made  his  last  voyage.  The  knife-blade  lay  on  the 
cabin  table  before  him,  and  his  eye  rested  on  it  for  a 
moment  with  a  transient  gleam  of  satisfaction  as  he 
remembered  how  well  Tommy,  the  Tonga  boy,  who 
pulled  the  bow  oar,  had  sent  a  Snider  bullet  through 
the  body  of  the  yellow-skinned  buck  from  whom  the 
knife-thrust  had  come.  From  the  blade  of  obsidian 
on  the  table  his  eye  turned  to  the  portrait  of  a  woman 
in  porcelain  that  hung  just  over  the  clock.  It  was  a 
face  fair  enough  to  look  at,  and  Liardet,  with  a 
muttered  curse  of  physical  agony,  leant  his  body  for- 
ward to  get  a  closer  view  of  it,  and  said,  "  Poor  little 
woman  ;  it'll  be  darned  rough  on  her."  Then  Russell, 
the  mate,  came  down. 

•  .  •  •  • 

8s 


86  Mrs.  Liardet : 

"Joe,"  said  Liardet,  in  his  practical  way,  which 
even  the  words  of  the  doctor  and  the  face  of  the  clock 
before  him  could  not  change,  "  cock  your  ears  and 
listen,  for  I  haven't  got  much  time,  and  you  have  the 
ship  to  look  to.  I  want  you  to  tell  the  owners  that 
this  affair  at  La  Vandola  wasn't  my  fault.  We  was 
doing  fair  and  square  trading  when  a  buck  drives  his 
knife  into  me  for  no  apparent  reason  beyond  the 
simple  damned  fun  of  the  thing.  Well,  he's  done  for 
me,  and  Tommy  Tonga  for  him,  and  that's  all  you've 
got  to  say  about  that.  Next  thing  is  to  ask  'em  to 
sling  Tommy  a  fiver  over  and  above  his  wages — for 
saving  of  the  boat  and  trade,  mind,  Joe.  Don't  say 
for  potting  the  nigger,  Joe  j  boat  and  trade,  boat  and 
trade,  that's  the  tack  to  go  on  with  owners,  Joe. 
Well,  let's  see  now.  .  .  .  My  old  woman.  See  she 
gets  fair  play,  wages  up  to  date  of  death,  eh,  Joe  ?  By 
God,  old  man,  she  won't  get  much  of  a  cheque — only 
four  months  out  now  from  Sydney.  Look  here,  Joe, 
the  Belgian's  all  right.  He  won't  go  telling  tales. 
So  don't  you  log  me  dead  for  another  month,  and 
make  as  bad  a  passage  as  you  can.  There's  only  us 
three  white  men  aboard,  and  the  native  boys  will 
take  their  Bible  oath  I  didn't  die  until  the  ship  was 
off  Lord  Howe  Island  if  you  give  'em  a  box  of 
tobacco.  You  see,  Joe  ?  That's  the  dodge.  More 
days,  more  dollars,  and  the  longer  you  keep  the  ship 
at  sea  the  more  money  comes  to  all  hands.  And  I 
know  I  can  trust  you,  Joe,  to  lend  a  hand  in  making 
the  old  woman's  cheque  a  little  bigger.  Right.  .  ,  . 
We've  been  two  years  together  now,  Joe,  and  this  is 
the  only  thing  I've  ever  asked  you  to  do  or  done 
myself  that  wasn't  square  and  aboveboard.     But  look 


a  South  Sea  Trading  Episode.  87 

here " — here,  for  some  half-minute,  Captain  Dave 
Liardet  launched  into  profanity — "  I  tell  you  that  the 
owners  of  this  ship  wouldn't  care  a  single  curse  if  you 
and  I  and  every  living  soul  aboard  had  had  our  livers  cut 
out  at  La  Vandola  as  long  as  they  didn't  lose  money 
over  it,  and  haven't  to  pay  our  wages  to  our  wives 
and  children." 

•  *  •  •  • 
Liardet  gasped  and  choked,  and  the  little  Belgian 

naturalist  tripped  down  and  wiped  away  the  dark 
stream  that  began  to  trickle  down  the  grizzled 
beard,  and  then  he  and  Russell,  the  mate,  laid  him 
down  again. 

"Don't  go,"  whispered  the  Belgian  to  the  other, 
*'he  sink  ver'  fast  now."  The  closed  eyelids  opened 
a  little  and  looked  up  through  the  skylight  at  the 
brown  face  of  Tommy  the  Tongan,  and  then  Russell 
gave  the  dying  skipper  brandy  and  water.  Then, 
with  fast-fading  eyes  on  the  picture  in  porcelain,  he 
asked  Russell  what  course  he  was  keeping. 

"  As  near  south  as  can  be,"  said  the  mate,  *'  but 
with  this  breeze  we  could  soon  make  the  Great 
Barrier,  and  there's  always  hope,  cap'n.  Let  me 
keep  her  away  to  the  westward  a  bit,  and  who  knows 
but  you  may " 

For  answer  the  grizzled  Liardet  held  out  his  hand, 
shook  his  head  faintly,  and  muttering,  "  I  hope  to 
God  it'll  come  on  a  Hell  of  a  Calm  for  a  Month  of 
Sundays,"  he  turned  his  face  to  the  port  and  went 
over  his  Great  Barrier. 

•  •  •  •  • 
Every    one   was   "xo  sorry   for    poor    little    Mrs. 

Liardet."     She  was  so  young  to  be  a  widow,  "and 


88  Mrs.  Liardet : 

having  no  children,  my  dear,  the  poor  creature  must 
have  felt  the  shock  the  more  keenly."  Thus  the 
local  gabble  of  the  acquaintances  and  friends  of  the 
pretty  widow.  And  she  laughed  softly  to  herself  that 
she  couldn't  feel  overwhelmed  with  grief  at  her  widow- 
hood. "  He  hadn't  a  thought  above  making  money," 
she  said  to  herself — oh,  Nell  Liardet,  for  whom  did  he 
desire  to  make  it  ! — "and  yet  never  could  make  it." 
And  then  she  thought  of  Russell,  and  smiled  again. 
His  hand  had  trembled  when  it  held  hers.  Surely  he 
did  not  come  so  often  to  see  her  merely  to  talk  of 
rough,  old  Dave  Liardet.  A  man  whom  she  had  only 
tolerated — never  loved.  And  then,  Russell  was  a  big, 
handsome  man  ;  and  she  Hked  big,  handsome  men. 
Also,  he  was  captain  now.  And,  of  course,  when  he 
had  told  her  of  that  rich  patch  of  pearl-shell,  that  he 
alone  knew  of  at  Caille  Harbour,  in  which  was  a  small 
fortune,  and  had  looked  so  intently  into  her  blue  eyes, 
he  had  meant  that  it  was  for  her.  "  Yes,"  and  she 
smiled  again,  "I'm  sure  he  loves  me.  But  he's 
terribly  slow  ;  and  although  I  do  believe  that  blonde 
young  widows  look  *  fetching '  in  black,  I'm  getting 
sick  of  it,  and  wish  he'd  marry  me  to-morrow." 

Russell  had  stood  to  his  compact  with  the  dead 
skipper.  The  owners  had  given  her  ;/^i50,  and 
Russell,  making  up  a  plausible  story  to  his  dead 
captain's  wife  of  Liardet  having  in  bygone  days  lent 
him  "  fifty  pounds,"  had  added  that  sum  to  the  other. 
And  he  meant,  for  the  sake  of  old  Dave,  never  to  let 
his  pretty  little  widow  run  short  as  long  as  he  had 
a  shot  in  the  locker.  The  patch  of  shell  at  Caille  he 
meant  to  work,  and  if  Dave  had  lived  they  would  have 


a  South  Sea  Trading  Episode,  89 

*'  gone  whacks."  But  as  he  was  dead,  he  wouldn't  do 
any  mean  thing.  She  should  have  half  of  whatever  he 
got — "go  whacks "  just  the  same.  But  as  for  love,  it 
never  entered  his  honest  brain,  and  had  any  one  told 
him  that  Nell  Liardet  was  fond  of  him,  he  would 
have  called  him  a  Har  and  "  plugged  "  him  for  insult- 
ing a  lady. 

•  •  •  •  • 

"  Going  away  !  Mr.  Russell — Joe  !  Surely  you 
won't  go  and  leave  me  without  a  friend  in  the  world  ? 
I  thought  you  cared  for  me  more  than  that  ?  " 

The  big  man  reddened  up  to  his  temples. 

"  Don't  say  that,  Mrs.  Liardet.  If  you'll  allow  me, 
I'll  always  be  a  friend.  And,  as  I  thought  it  would 
be  hard  for  you  to  have  to  spend  the  little  that  Liardet 
left  you,  I  have  made  arrangements  for  you  to  draw 
a  few  pounds  whenever  you  need  it  from  the  agents. 
And  as  long  as  ever  I  have  a  pound  in  the  world, 
Dave  Liardet's  wife " 

"Wife  !  "  and  the  blue  eyes  flashed  angrily.  "  He 
is  dead  and  I  am  free.  Why  do  you  always  talk  of 
him  ?  I  hate  the  name.  I  hated  him — a  coarse, 
money-loving " 

"Stop!" 

Russell  stepped  forward.  "Good-bye,  Mrs.  Liardet. 
I  hold  to  what  I  have  said.  But  the  man  that  you 
call  coarse  and  money-loving  died  in  trying  to  make 
it  for  you.  And  he  was  a  good,  honest  man,  and  I 
can't  stay  here  and  hear  his  memory  abused  by  the 
woman  he  loved  better  than  life."  And  then  he 
turned  to  go,  but  stopped,  and,  with  a  scarlet  face, 
said,  "Of  course  you're  a  lady  and  wouldn't  do 
anything  not  right  and  straight,  so  I  know  that  if 


9©  Mrs.  Liardet. 

you  intend  to  marry  again  you'll  send  me  word ;  but 
if  you  don't,  why,  of  course,  I'll  be  proud  and  glad  to 
stand  by  you  in  money  matters.  I'm  sure  poor  Dave 
would  have  done  the  same  for  my  wife  if  I  had  got 
that  knife  into  me  instead  of  him." 

Nell  Liardet,  sitting  with  clenched  hands  and  set 
teeth,  said,  in  a  hoarse  voice,  "  Your  wife  !  Are 
you  married  ?  " 

"  Well — er — yes,  oh,  yes.  I  have  a — er — native 
wife  at  the  Anchorites.  Poor  old  Dave  stood  god- 
father to  one  of  my  little  girls.  God  knows  how 
anxious  I  am  to  get  back  to  her." 

«  G^^^-bye,  Mr.  Russell !  " 


KENNEDT  THE  BOATSTEERER 


Kennedy  the  Boatsteerer. 

Steering  north-west  from  Samoa  for  six  or  seven 
hundred  miles  you  will  sight  the  Ellice  Group — low- 
lying,  palm-clad  coral  atolls  fringed  on  the  lee  with  shim- 
mering sandy  beaches.  On  the  weather-side,  exposed 
to  the  long  sweep  of  the  ocean-rollers,  there  are  but 
short,  black-looking  reefs  backed  by  irregular  piles 
of  loose,  flat,  sea-worn  coral,  thrown  up  and  accu- 
mulating till  its  surface  is  brushed  by  the  pendant 
leaves  of  the  cocoanuts,  only  to  be  washed  and  swirled 
back  seawards  when  the  wind  comes  from  the  west- 
ward and  sends  a  fierce  sweeping  current  along  the 
white  beaches  and  black  coral  rocks  alike. 

Twenty- three  years  ago  these  islands  were  almost 
unknown  to  any  one  save  a  few  wandering  traders 
and  the  ubiquitous  New  Bedford  whaler.  But  now, 
long  ere  you  can  see  from  the  ship's  deck  the  snowy 
tumble  of  the  surf  on  the  reef,  a  huge  white  mass, 
grim,  square,  and  ugly,  will  meet  your  eye — white- 
washed walls  of  a  distressful  ghastliness  accentuated 
by  doors  and  windows  of  the  deadliest  black.  This 
cheerful  excrescence  on  the  face  of  suffering  nature 
is  a  native  church. 

93 


94  Kennedy  the  Boafsteerer. 

The  people  have  mostly  assimilated  themselves,  in 
their  manners  and  mode  of  life  generally,  to  the  new 
order  of  things  represented  by  the  fearful-looking  struc- 
ture aforementioned.  That  is  to  say,  even  as  the 
Tongan  and  Fijian,  they  have  degenerated  from  a 
fierce,  hardy,  warlike  race  into  white-shirted,  black- 
coated  saints,  whose  ideal  of  a  lovely  existence  is  to 
have  public  prayer  twice  a  day  on  week-days  and  all 
day  on  Sundays.  To  them  it  is  a  good  thing  to  get 
half  a  dollar  from  the  white  trader  for  a  sick  fowl — 
which,  when  bought,  will  be  claimed  by  another 
native,  who  will  have  the  white  man  fined  two  dollars 
for  buying  stolen  property.  Had  the  white  man  paid 
a  dollar  he  had  done  wisely — that  coin  sometimes 
goes  far  in  the  Tokelaus.  For  instance,  the  truly 
unctuous  native  Christian  may  ask  a  dollar  for  two 
fowls,  but  he  will  also  lease  out  his  wife  for  a  similar 
amount.  Time  was,  in  the  EUices,  when  the  undue 
complaisance  of  a  married  woman  meant  a  sudden  and 
inartistic  compression  of  the  jugular,  or  a  swift  blow 
from  the  heavy,  ebony-wood  club  of  the  wronged 
man.  Nowadays,  since  the  smug-faced  native 
teacher  hath  shown  them  the  Right  Way,  such 
domestic  troubles  are  condoned  by — a  dollar.  That 
is,  if  it  be  a  genuine  American  dollar  or  two  British 
floriftf  J  for  outraged  honour  would  not  accept  the 
cast-iron  Bolivian  money  or  the  poor  silver  of  Chili 
and  Peru.  And  for  a  dollar  the  native  "  Christian  " 
can  all  but  pay  for  a  nicely-bound  Bible,  printed  in 
the  Samoan  tongue,  and  thus,  no  doubt,  out  of  evil 
would  come  good  ;  for  he  could,  by  means  of  his 
newly-acquired  purchase,  picture  to  his  dusky  mate 
the  terrors  that  await  those  who  look  upon  strange 


Kennedy  the  Boats feerer.  95 

men     and     tupe     fa'apupula     (bright     and     shining 
money). 

•  •  •  •  • 

But  I  want  to  tell  about  Kennedy.  Kennedy  the 
Boatsteerer  he  was  called  j  although  twenty  years 
had  passed  and  gone  since  that  day  at  Wallis  Island 
when  he,  a  bright-eyed,  bronze-faced  lad — with  the 
fighting-blood  of  the  old  Puritan  Endicotts  running 
like  fire  through  his  veins  despite  his  New  England 
bringing-up — ran  his  knife  into  a  shipmate's  heart 
and  fled  for  ever  from  all  white  associations.  Over 
a  woman  it  was,  and  only  a  copper-coloured  one  at 
that ;  but  then  she  was  young  and  beautiful,  with 
dreamy,  glistening  eyes,  and  black,  wavy  hair,  orna- 
mented with  a  wreath  of  orange-flowers  and  coil  upon 
coil  of  bright-hued  sea  sea  berries  strung  together, 
hanging  from  her  neck  and  resting  upon  her  dainty 
bosom. 

•  •  •  «  • 

Standing  at  the  doorway  of  his  house,  looking  over 
the  placid  waters  at  the  rising  sun,  Kennedy  folds  his 
brawny  arms  across  his  bare,  sun-tanned  chest  and 
mutters  to  himself,  in  his  almost  forgotten  mother- 
tongue  :  "  Twenty  years,  twenty  years  ago  !  Who 
would  know  me  there  now  ?  Even  if  I  placarded  my 
name  on  my  back  and  what  I  did,  'taint  likely  I'd 
have  to  face  a  grand  jury  for  running  a  knife  into  a 
mongrel  Portuguee,  way  out  in  the  South  Seas  a  score 
of  years  ago.  .  .  .  Poor  little  Talamalu  !  I  paid  a 
big  price  for  her — twenty  years  of  wandering  from 
Wallis  Island  to  the  Bonins  ;  and  wherever  I  go  that 
infernal  story  follows  me  up.  Well,  I'll  risk  it  any- 
how, and  the  first  chance  that  comes  along  I'll  cut 


96  Kennedy  the  Boatsteerer. 

Kanaka  life  and  drinking  ship's  rum  and  go  see  old 
dad  and  mum  to  home.  Here,  Tikena,  you  Tokelau 
devil,  bring  me  my  toddy." 

A  native,  clad  in  his  grass  ////,  takes  from  a  wooden 
peg  in  the  house  wall  two  shells  of  toddy,  and  the 
white  wanderer  takes  one  and  drinks.  He  is  about  to 
return  the  other  to  the  man  when  two  girls  come  up 
from  the  beach  with  their  arms  around  each  other's 
waists,  Tahiti  fashion,  and  one  calls  out  with  a  laugh 
to  "leave  some  in  the  shell."  This  is  Laumanu,  and 
if  there  is  one  thing  in  the  world  that  Jake  Kennedy 
cares  for  above  himself  it  is  this  tall  girl  with  the  soft 
eyes  and  lithe  figure.  And  he  dreams  of  her  pretty 
often,  and  curses  fluently  to  think  that  she  is  beyond 
his  reach  and  is  never  likely  to  fill  the  place  of  Tala- 
malu  and  her  many  successors.  For  Laumanu  is  tabu 
to  a  Nuitao  chief — that  is,  she  has  been  betrothed,  but 
the  Nuitao  man  is  sixty  miles  away  at  his  own  island, 
and  no  one  knows  when  he  will  claim  his  avaga. 
Then  the  girl  gives  him  back  the  empty  toddy-shell, 
and,  slyly  pinching  his  hand,  sails  away  with  her  mate, 
whereupon  the  susceptible  Kennedy,  furious  with  long 
disappointment,  flings  himself  down  on  his  bed  of 
mats,  curses  his  luck  and  his  unsuspecting  rival  at 
Nuitao,  and  finally  decides  not  to  spring  a  surprise 
on  "  dad  and  mum  "  by  going  "  hum  "  for  a  consider- 
able number  of  years  to  come. 

•  .  •  •  • 

Mr.  Jake  Kennedy  at  this  time  was  again  a  widower 
— in  the  widest  sense  of  the  word.  The  last  native 
girl  who  had  occupied  the  proud  position  of  Te  avaga 
te  papalagi  (the  white  man's  wife)  was  a  native  of  the 
island  of  Maraki — a  dark-skinned,  passionately  jealous 


Kennedy  the  Boatsteerer.  97 

creature,  who  had  followed  his  fortunes  for  three  years 
to  his  present  location,  and  then  developed  mal-du-pays 
to  such  an  extent  that  the  local  priest  and  devil-catcher, 
one  Pare-vaka,  was  sent  for  by  her  female  attendants. 
Pare-vaka  was  not  long  in  making  his  diagnosis.  A 
little  devil  in  the  shape  of  an  octopus  was  in  Tene- 
napa's  brain.  And  he  gave  instructions  how  to  get 
the  fiend  out,  and  also  further  instructions  to  one  of 
the  girl  attendants  to  fix,  point-upwards,  in  the  sick 
woman's  mat  the  foto^  or  barb  of  the  sting-ray.  So 
when  Kennedy,  who,  in  his  rough,  careless  way,  had 
some  faint  fondness  for  the  woman  who  three  years 
ago  he  went  mad  over,  heard  a  loud  cry  in  the  night 
and  was  told  that  Tenenapa  was  dead,  he  did  not 
know  that  as  the  sick  woman  lay  on  her  side  the 
watchers  had  quietly  turned  her  with  her  face  to  the 
roof,  and  with  the  needle  pointed  foto  pierced  her  to 
the  heart.  And  old  Pare-vaka  rejoiced,  for  he  had  a 
daughter  who,  in  his  opinion,  should  be  avaga  to  the 
wealthy  and  clever  white  man,  who  could  tori  nut  and 
sisi  atu  (pull  cocoanuts  and  catch  bonito)  like  any 
native  ;  and  this  Tenenapa — who  was  she  but  a  dog- 
eating  stranger  from  Maraki  only  fit  for  shark's  meat  ? 
So  the  people  came  and  brought  Kennedy  the  "  gifts 
of  affliction  "  to  show  their  sympathy,  and  asked  him 
to  take  a  wife  from  their  own  people.  And  he  asked 
for  Laumanu. 

There  was  a  dead  silence  awhile,  and  then  a  wild- 
looking  creature  with  long  white  hair  falling  around 
his  shoulders  like  a  cloak,  dreading  to  shame  the  papa- 
lagi  before  so  many,  rose  to  his  feet  and  motioned 
them  away.     Then  he  spoke  :    *'  Forget  the  words 

8 


98  Kennedy  the  Boatsteerer. 

you  have  said,  and  take  for  a  wife  the  girl  from  the 
house  of  Pare-vaka.  Laumanu  is  tahu^  and  death  walks 
behind  her."  But  Kennedy  sulked  and  wanted  Lau- 
manu or  none. 

And  this  is  why  he  feels  so  bad  to-day,  and  the  rum- 
keg  gives  him  no  consolation.  For  the  sweet-voiced 
Laumanu  always  runs  away  from  him  when  he  steps 
out  from  his  dark  little  trade-room  into  the  light,  with 
unsteady  steps  and  a  peculiar  gleam  in  his  black  eye, 
that  means  mischief — rude  love  to  a  woman  and  chal- 
lenge to  fight  to  a  man. 

Lying  there  on  his  mat,  plotting  how  to  get  pos- 
session of  the  girl,  there  comes  to  him  a  faint  cry, 
gradually  swelling  in  volume  until  every  voice  in  the 
village,  from  the  full,  sonorous  tones  of  the  men  to 
the  shrill  treble  of  the  children,  blend  together  ;  "  TV 
vaka  motul  Te  vaka  motu!  "  (a  ship  !  a  ship  !).  Spring- 
ing up,  he  strides  out,  and  there,  slowly  lumbering 
round  the  south-west  end  of  the  little  island,  under 
cruising  canvas  only,  he  sees  her.  One  quick  glance 
shows  her  to  be  a  whaler. 

In  ten  minutes  Kennedy  is  in  a  canoe,  flying  over 
the  reef,  and  in  as  many  more  alongside  and  on  deck. 
The  captain  is  an  old  acquaintance,  and  while  the 
boats  are  sent  ashore  to  buy  pigs  and  poultry,  Kennedy 
and  he  have  a  long  talk  in  the  cabin.  Then  the 
skipper  says,  as  he  rises,  "  Well,  it's  risky,  but  it's  a 
smart  way  of  earning  five  hundred  dollars,  and  I'll 
land  you  and  the  creature  somewhere  in  the  Caro- 
lines." 

The  whaler  was  to  lie  ofF  and  on  all  night,  or  until 
such  time  as  Kennedy  and  the  girl  came  aboard  in  a 
canoe.    To  avert  suspicion,  the  captain  was  to  remain 


Kennedy  the  Boafsteerer.  99 

ashore  with  his  boat's  crew  to  witness  a  dance,  and,  if 
all  went  well,  the  white  man  was  to  be  aboard  before 
him  with  Laumanu  and  stow  her  away,  in  case  any 
canoes  came  off  with  the  boat. 

The  dance  was  in  full  swing  when  Kennedy, 
stripped  to  the  waist,  with  a  heavy  bag  of  money  in 
his  left  hand  and  a  knife  in  his  right,  took  a  long 
farewell  of  his  house  and  stepped  out  into  the  silent 
groves  of  coco-palms.  A  short  walk  brought  him  to 
a  salt  lagoon.  On  the  brink  he  stood  and  waited, 
until  a  trembling,  voiceless  figure  joined  him  from 
out  the  depths  of  the  thick  mangroves.  Hand- 
in-hand  they  fled  along  the  narrow,  sandy  path  till 
they  reached  the  beach,  just  where  a  few  untenanted 
thatched  huts  stood  on  the  shingle.  Between  these, 
covered  over  with  cocoanut  branches,  lay  a  canoe. 
Deftly  the  two  raised  the  light  craft  and  carried  it 
down  to  the  water  that  broke  in  tender,  rippling 
murmurs  on  the  white  sand.  And  with  Laumanu 
seated  for'ard,  gazing  out  beyond  into  the  blackness 
before  them,  he  urged  the  canoe  seawards  with  quick, 
nervous  strokes.  Far  away  to  the  westward  he  could 
see  the  dull  glimmer  of  the  whaleship's  lights. 

The  mate  of  the  Essex  was  leaning  over  the  rail, 
drowsily  watching  the  phosphorescence  in  the  water  as 
the  ship  rolled  gently  to  the  ocean  swell,  when  a  cry 
came  from  for'ard  :  "  A  heavy  squall  coming  down, 
sir,  from  the  land  !  "  And  it  did  come,  with  a  swift, 
fierce  rush,  and  so  strong  that  it  nearly  threw  the  old 
whaler  over  on  her  beam-ends.  In  the  midst  of  the 
hum  and  roar  of  the  squall  some   one  in  the  waist 


lOO  Kennedy  the  Boat  steer  er, 

of  the  ship  called  out  something  about  a  canoe  being 
alongside.  The  mate's  comment  was  brief  but  vigorous, 
and  the  matter  was  speedily  forgotten.  Then  the 
rain  fell  in  torrents,  and  as  the  ship  was  made  snug 
the  watch  got  under  shelter  and  the  mate  went  below 
to  get  a  drink  of  rum,  and  curse  his  captain  for  loafing 
ashore,  watching  naked  women  dancing. 

Three  miles  further  out  a  canoe  was  drifting  and 
tossing  about  with  outrigger  carried  away.  Now  and 
then,  as  a  big  sea  lifted  her,  the  stern  would  rise  high 
out  of  the  water  and  the  sharp-nosed  whaleback 
for'ard  go  down  as  if  weighted  heavily.  And  it  was 
— with  a  bag  of  dollars  lashed  underneath.  When  in 
the  early  morning  the  whaleship  sighted  the  drifting 
speck,  floating  on  the  bosom  of  a  now  placid  sea,  the 
thoughtful  Down-East  skipper — observant  of  the 
canoe's  bows  being  under  water — lowered  a  boat  and 
pulled  over  to  it.  He  took  the  bag  of  dollars  and 
muttering  something  about  "  rather  thinking  he  was 
kinder  acquainted  with  the  poor  man's  people,"  went 
back  to  the  ship  and  stood  away  on  his  course  in 
pursuit  of  his  greasy  vocation. 

And  Kennedy  and  the  girl  !  Go  some  night  and 
watch  the  dark-skinned  people  catching  flying-fish  by 
the  light  of  au  lama  torches.  Look  over  the  side  of 
the  canoe  and  see  those  swarms  of  grim,  grey  devils  of 
the  tropic  seas  that  ever  and  anon  dart  to  the  surface 
as  the  paddlers'  hands  come  perilously  near  the  water, 
and  wonder  no  longer  as  to  the  fete  of  Kennedy  the 
Boatsteerer  and  his  Laumanu. 


A  BEAD  LOSS 


A    Dead    Loss. 

Denison,  the  supercargo  of  the  Indiana,  was  sent  by 
his  "  owners  "  to  an  island  in  the  S.W.  Pacific  where 
they  had  a  trading  business,  the  man  in  charge  or 
which  had,  it  was  believed,  got  into  trouble  by  shoot- 
ing a  native.  His  instructions  were  to  investigate  the 
rumour,  and,  if  the  business  was  suffering  in  any  way, 
to  take  away  the  trader  and  put  another  man  in  his 
place.  The  incident  here  related  is  well  within  the 
memory  of  some  very  worthy  men  who  still  dwell 
under  the  roofs  of  thatch  in  the  Western  Pacific. 

The  name  of  the  island  was — well,  say  Nukupapau. 

The  Indiana  sailed  from  Auckland  in  December,  and 

made  a  smart  run  till  the  blue  peaks  of  Tutuila  were 

sighted,   when    the  trades   failed   and  heavy  weather 

came  on  from  the  westward.     Up  to  this  time  Deni- 

son's  duties  as  supercargo  had  kept  him  busy  in  the 

trade-room,  and  he  had  had  no  time  to  study  his  new 

captain,  for,  although  they  met  at  table  three  times  a 

day,  beyond  a  few  civilities  they  had  done  no  talking. 

Captain  Chaplin  was  young — about  thirty — and  one 

of  the  most  taciturn  persons   Denison  had  ever  met. 

The  mate,  who,  having  served  the  owners  for  about 
103 


I04  -^  Dead  Loss. 

twenty  years,  felt  himself  privileged,  one  night  at 
supper  asked  him  point-blank,  in  his  Irish  fashion 
apropos  of  nothing  :  "  An'  phwat  part  av  the  wurruld 
may  yez  come  from,  captain  ?  "  "• 

There  were  but  the  five  of  them  present — the 
skipper,  two  mates,  boatswain,  and  Denison.  Laying 
down  his  knife  and  fork  and  stirring  his  tea,  he  fixed 
his  eyes  coldly  on  the  inquisitive  sub's  face. 

"From  the  same  God-forsaken  hole  as  you  do,  sir 
— Ireland.  My  name  isn't  Chaplin,  but  as  I'm  the 
captain  of  this  rotten  old  hooker  I  want  you  to  under- 
stand that  if  you  ask  me  another  such  d d  imperti- 
nent question  you'll  find  it  a  risky  business  for  you — 
or  any  one  else  !  " 

The  quick  blood  mounted  up  to  the  old  mate's  fore- 
head, and  it  looked  like  as  if  a  fight  was  coming,  but 
the  captain  had  resumed  his  supper  and  the  matter 
ended.  But  it  showed  us  that  he  meant  to  keep  to 
himself. 

The  Indiana  made  the  low-lying  atoll  at  last  and 
lay-to  outside.  Those  on  board  could  see  the  trader's 
house  close  to,  but  instead  of  being  surrounded  by  a 
swarm  of  eager  and  excited  natives  there  was  not  one 
to  be  seen.  Nor  could  they  even  see  a  canoe  coming 
ofF.  Denison  pointed  this  out  to  the  captain.  Al- 
though of  an  evidently  savage  and  morose  tempera- 
ment he  was  always  pleasant  enough  to  Denison  in 
his  capacity  of  supercargo,  and  inquired  of  him  if  he 
thought  the  trader  had  been  killed. 

"  No,"  Denison  said,  "  I  don't  think  the  people 
here  would  ever  kill  Martin  ;  but  something  is  wrong. 
He  has  not  hoisted  his  flag,  and  that  is  very  queer.     I 


A  Dead  Loss.  105 

can  see  no  natives  about  his  place — which  also  is  curious ; 
and  the  village  just  there  seems  to  be  deserted.  It 
you  will  lower  the  boat  I'll  soon  see  what's  wrong." 

The  skipper  called  out  to  lower  the  whaleboat,  put 
four  Rotumah  boys  in  her,  and  then  offered  to  accom- 
pany the  supercargo.  As  he  was  a  new  man,  Denison 
naturally  was  surprised  at  his  wanting  to  leave  his  ship 
at  a  strange  place. 

"Glad  enough,"  he  said,  "the  landing  here  is 
beastly — lucky  if  we  escape  getting  stove-in  going 
over  the  reef.  Martin  knows  the  passage  well  and 
tackles  it  in  any  surf — wish  he  were  here  now  !  " 

Captain  Chaplin  soon  took  that  off  his  mind.  Un- 
consciously Denison  gave  him  the  steer-oar,  and  in  a 
few  minutes  they  were  flying  over  the  reef  at  a  half- 
tide,  and  never  touched  anywhere. 

"  Why,"  said  Denison,  "  you  seem  to  know  the 
place." 

"  I  do,"  he  answered,  quietly,  "  know  it  well,  and 
know  Martin,  too.     You'll  find  him  drunk." 

They  walked  up  the  white  path  of  broken  coral  and 
stood  in  the  doorway  of  the  big  front  room.  At  the 
far  end,  on  a  native  sofa,  lay  Martin  ;  by  his  side  sat 
a  young  native  girl  fanning  him.     No  one  else. 

The  gaunt  black-whiskered  trader  tried  to  rise,  but 
with  a  varied  string  of  oaths  lashed  together  he  fell 
back,  waving  his  hand  to  Denison  in  recognition. 
The  girl  was  not  a  native  of  the  island — that  could  be 
seen  at  a  glance.  She  was  as  handsome  as  a  picture, 
and  after  giving  the  two  white  men  a  dignified  greet- 
ing, in  the  Yap  (Caroline  Islands)  dialect,  she  resumed 
her  fanning  and  smoking  her  cigarette. 


io6  A  Dead  Loss. 

"Martin,"  said  the  supercargo,  "shake  yourself 
together.  What  is  the  matter  ?  Are  you  sick,  or  is 
it  only  the  usual  drunk  ?  " 

"  Both,"  came  in  tones  that  sounded  as  if  his  inside 
were  lined  with  cotton  wool ;  "  got  a  knife  in  my 
ribs  six  months  back  ;  never  got  well  j  and  I've  been 
drinking  all  the  time  " — and  then,  with  a  silly  smile 
of  childish  vanity,  "  all  over  her.  She's  my  new  girl — 
wot  d'ye  think  of  her  ?     Ain't  she  a  star  ?  " 

All  this  time  Chaplin  stood  back  until  Denison 
called  him  up  and  said  to  the  trader,  "  Our  new  cap- 
tain, Martin  !  " 

"  By  God,"  said  the  trader,  slowly,  "  if  he  ain't  the 

image  of  that nigger-catching  skipper  that  was 

here  from  Honolulu  four  years  ago." 

"  That's  me  !  "  said  Chaplin,  coolly  puffing  away 
at  his  cigar,  and  taking  a  seat  near  the  sofa,  with  one 
swift  glance  of  admiration  at  the  face  of  the  girl. 

In  a  few  minutes  Martin  told  his  troubles.  Some 
seven  months  previously  a  ship  had  called  at  the 
island.  He  boarded  her.  She  was  a  whaler  making 
south  to  the  Kermadecs  "sperming."  The  captain 
told  Martin  he  had  come  through  the  Pelews  and 
picked  up  a  big  canoe  with  a  chiePs  retinue  on  board, 
nearly  dead  from  starvation.  Many  of  them  did  die 
on  board.  Among  those  left  were  two  women,  the 
wife  and  daughter  of  the  chief — who  was  the  first 
to  die.  Making  a  long  story  short,  Martin  gave  the 
captain  trade  and  cash  to  the  tune  of  five  hundred 
dollars  for  the  two  women,  and  came  ashore.  Pension- 
ing off^  his  other  wife,  he  took  the  young  girl  himself 
and  sold  the  mother  to  the  local  chief  for  a  ton  of  copra. 


A  Dead  Loss.  107 

A  week  afterwards  a  young  native  came  outside  his 
house,  cutlass  in  hand.  He  was  a  brother  of  the 
dismissed  wife  and  meant  fighting.  Martin  darted 
out,  his  new  love  standing  calmly  in  the  doorway, 
smoking.  There  was  a  shot,  and  the  native  fell  with 
a  bullet  through  his  chest,  but  raising  his  voice  he 
called  to  others  and  flung  them  his  cutlass  ;  and  then 
Martin  found  himself  struggling  with  two  or  three 
more  and  got  a  fearful  stab.  That  night  the  head 
men  of  the  village  came  to  him  and  said  that  as  he 
had  always  been  a  good  man  to  them  they  would  not 
kill  him,  but  they  then  and  there  tabooed  him  till  he 
either  killed  his  new  wife  or  sent  her  away.  And 
when  he  looked  out  in  the  morning  he  saw  the  whole 
village  going  away  in  canoes  to  the  other  side  ot  the 
lagoon.  For  six  months  neither  he  nor  the  girl — 
Lunumala  was  her  name — had  spoken  to  a  native. 
And  Martin  gave  himself  up  to  love  and  drink,  and, 
since  the  fracas,  had  not  done  a  cent's  worth  of  trading. 

Denison  told  Martin  his  instructions.  He  only 
nodded,  and  said  something  to  the  girl,  who  rose  and 
brought  the  supercargo  his  books.  A  few  minutes* 
looking  through  them,  and  then  at  his  well-filled 
trade-room,  showed  Denison  that  everything  was  right, 
except  that  all  the  liquor  was  gone. 

"Martin,"  the  supercargo  said,  "this  won't  do.  I've 
got  another  man  aboard,  and  I'll  put  him  here  and  take 
you  to  Rotumah." 

But  he  swore  violently.  He  couldn't  go  anywhere 
else.  This  island  was  his  home.  The  natives  would 
give  in  some  day.  He'd  rather  cut  his  throat  than 
leave. 

"  Well,"  said  Denison,   calmly,  "  it's  one  of  two 


Io8  A  Dead  Loss. 

things.  You  know  as  well  as  I  do  that  a  tabu  like 
this  is  a  serious  business.  I  know  you  are  the  best 
man  for  the  place ;  but,  if  you  won't  leave,  why  not 
send  the  girl  away  ?  " 

No,  he  wouldn't  send  her  away.  She  should  stay 
too. 

"  All  serene,"  said  the  man  of  business.  "  Then  I'll 
take  stock  at  once,  and  we'll  square  up  and  I'll  land 
the  other  man." 

This  was  a  crusher  for  poor  Martin.  Denison  felt 
sorry  for  him,  and  had  a  hard  duty  to  carry  through. 

Presently  the  sick  man  with  a  ten-ton  oath  groaned, 

" you,  Mister  Skipper,  wot  are  you  a-doin'  of 

there,  squeezin'  my  wife's  hand  ?  " 

*'  Well,  now,"  said  the  captain,  quietly,  "  look 
here,  Martin.  Just  put  this  in  your  thick  head  and 
think  it  out  in  five  minutes.  You've  either  got  to 
give  up  this  girl  or  get  away  from  the  island.  Now, 
I  don't  want  to  make  any  man  feel  mean,  but  she 
don't  particularly  care  about  you,  and " 

The  graceful  creature  nodded  her  approval  or 
Chaplin's  remarks,  and  Martin  glared  at  her.  Then 
he  took  a  drink  of  gin  and  meditated. 

Two  minutes  passed.     Then  Martin  turned. 

*'  How  much  ?  "  he  said. 

"  Fifty  pounds,  sonny.  Two  hundred  and  fifty 
dollars." 

"  Easy  to  see  you've  been  in  the  business,"  mumbled 
Martin  ;  "  why,  her  mother's  worth  that.  'Tain't  no 
deal." 

"  Well,  then,  how  much  do  you  want  ?  " 

«  A  hundred." 


A  Dead  Loss.  109 

"Haven't  got  it  on  board,  sonny.  Take  eighty 
sovereigns  and  the  rest  in  trade  or  liquor  ?  " 

"  It's  a  deal,"  said  Martin  ;  *'  are  you  game  to  part 
ten  sovereigns  for  the  girl's  mother,  and  I'll  get  her 
back  from  the  natives  !  " 

"  No,"  said  Chaplin,  rising  ;  "  the  girl's  enough  for 
me. 

She  had  risen  and  was  looking  at  Martin  with  a 
pallid  face  and  set  teeth,  and  then  without  a  word  of 
farewell  on  either  side  she  picked  up  a  Panama  hat 
and,  fan  in  hand,  walked  down  to  the  boat  and  got  in, 
waiting  for  Chaplin. 

Presently  he  came  down,  and  said,  "Well,  Mr. 
Denison,  I  suppose,  as  matters  are  arranged,  you'll 
want  to  land  Martin  some  trade  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no,"  said  Denison,  "  he's  got  plenty.  This 
tabu  on  his  own  business  will  teach  him  a  lesson.  But 
I  want  to  send  him  some  provisions  on  shore.  By 
the  way,  captain,  that  girl's  likely  to  prove  expensive 
to  you.  I  hope  you'll  put  her  ashore  at  Rotumah 
till  the  voyage  is  nearly  over." 

"  No,"  said  he,  "  I  won't.  Of  course,  I  know  our 
godly  owners  would  raise  a  deuce  of  a  row  about  my 
buying  the  girl  if  I  couldn't  pay  for  her  keep  while 
she's  on  board,  but  I've  got  a  couple  of  hundred  pounds 
in  Auckland,  as  they  know,  besides  some  cash  on  board. 
After  I've  paid  that  thundering  lackguard  I've  still 
some  left,  and  I  mean  to  put  her  ashore  at  Levuka  to 
live  until  I  can  take  her  to  her  destination." 

"  Why,"  Denison  queried,  "  what  are  you  going  to 
do  with  her  ?  " 

"Just  this:  there's  a  friend  of  mine  in  Honolulu 


no  A  Dead  Loss. 

always  willing  to  give  a  few  thousand  dollars  for  a 
really  handsome  girl.  And  I  believe  that  girl  will 
bring  me  nearly  about  three  thousand  dollars." 

For  three  months  the  girl  remained  on  board,  grave, 
dignified,  and  always  self-possessed.  Chaplin  treated  her 
kindly,  and  it  was  evident  to  all  on  board  that  the  girl 
had  given  him  such  affection  as  she  was  capable  of,  and 
little  knew  his  intentions  regarding  her  future.  With 
both  Chaplin  and  Denison  she  would  now  converse 
freely  in  the  Pelew  Island  dialect.  And  often  pointing 
to  the  sinking  sun  she  would  sigh — "  There  is  my 
land  over  there  behind  the  sun.  When  will  we  get 
there  ?  "  Laying  her  hand  on  Chaplin's  she  would 
seek  for  an  answer.     And  he  would  answer — nothing. 

After  the  Indiana  had  cruised  through  the  Line 
Islands  she  headed  back  for  Rotumah  and  Fiji.  The 
girl  came  up  on  deck  after  supper.  It  was  blowing 
freshly  and  the  barque  was  slipping  through  the  water 
fast.  Lunumala  walked  to  the  binnacle  and  looked  at 
the  compass,  pointing  to  S.S.W.  She  gazed  steadily 
at  it  awhile  and  then  said  to  the  Rotumah  boy  in 
his  own  tongue — "Why  is  the  ship  going  to  the 
South  ?  " 

Tom,  the  Rotuman,  grinned — "  To  Fiji,  my  white 
tropic  bird." 

Just  then  Chaplin  came  on  deck,  cigar  in  mouth. 
The  girl  and  he  looked  at  each  other.  He  knew  by 
her  white,  set  face  that  mischief  was  brewing. 

Pointing,  with  her  left  hand,  to  the  compass,  she 
said,  in  a  low  voice — 

"To  Fiji?" 


A  Dead  Loss.  1 1 1 

"  Yes,"  said  Chaplin,  coolly,  "  to  Fiji,  where  you 
must  remain  awhile,  Lunumala."  f 

"And  you?" 

"  That  is  my  business.  Question  me  no  more  now. 
Go  below  and  turn  in." 

Standing  there  before  him,  she  looked  again  in  his 
hard,  unrelenting  face.  Then  she  slowly  walked  for- 
ward. 

"  Sulky,"  said  Chaplin  to  Denison. 

Steadily  she  walked  along  the  deck,  and  then 
mounted  to  the  to'gallant  fo'c's'le  and  stood  a  second 
or  two  by  the  cathead.  Her  white  dress  flapped  and 
clung  to  her  slender  figure  as  she  turned  and  looked 
aft  at  us,  and  her  long,  black  hair  streamed  out  like 
a  pall  of  death.     Suddenly  she  sprang  over. 

With  a  curse  Chaplin  rushed  to  the  wheel,  and  in 
double-quick  time  the  whaleboat  was  lowered  and 
search  was  made.  In  half  an  hour  Chaplin  returned, 
and  gaining  the  deck  said,  in  his  usual  cool  way,  to 
the  mate  :  "  Hoist  in  the  boat  and  fill  away  again  as 
quick  as  possible."     Then  he  went  below. 

A  few  minutes  afterwards  he  was  at  his  accustomed 
amusement,  making  tortoise-shell  ornaments  with  a 
fret-saw. 

"  A  sad  end  to  the  poor  girl's  life,"  said  the  super- 
cargo. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  methodical  ex-Honolulu  black- 
birder,  "  and  a  sad  end  to  my  lovely  five  hundred 
dollars." 


HICKSON:  A  HALF-CASTE 


Hicks  on  :  a  Half-Cast  e, 

"Mauki"  Hickson  and  I  were  coming  across  from 
the  big  native  town  at  Mulinu'u  Point  to  Apia  one 
afternoon  when  we  met  a  dainty  little  white  woman, 
garmented  in  spotless  white.  Hickson,  touching  his 
hat,  walked  on  across  the  narrow  bridge  that  crosses 
the  creek  by  the  French  Mission,  and  waited  for  me 
on  the  other  side. 

This  tiny  lady  in  white  was  a  lovable  little 
creature.  There  was  not  a  man  in  Samoa  but  felt 
proud  and  pleased  if  she  stopped  and  spoke  to  him. 
And  she  could  go  anywhere  on  the  beach,  from  re- 
spectable Matautu  right  down  to  riotous,  dissolute 
Matafele,  and  make  her  purchases  at  the  big  store  of 
Der  Deutsche  Handels  Plantagen  und  Slid  See  Inseln 
Gesellschaft  without  even  a  drunken  native  daring  to 
look  at  her.  That  was  because  every  one,  dissolute 
native  and  licentious  white,  knew  she  was  a  good 
woman.  Perhaps,  had  she  been  married,  and  had  she 
had  a  yellow,  tallowy  skin  and  the  generally  acidulated 
appearance  peculiar  to  white  women  long  resident  in 
the  South  Seas,  we  wouldn't  have  thought  so  much  of 
her,  and  felt  mean  and  contemptible  when  she  taxed 
us  in  her  open,  innocent   fashion   with  doing  those 


Il6  Hickson  :  a  Half -Caste. 

things  that  we  ought  not  have  done.  But  she  had  a 
sweet,  merry  little  face,  set  about  with  dimples,  and 
soft  cheeks  hued  like  the  first  flush  of  a  ripening 
peach  ;  and  when  she  spoke  to  us  she  brought  back 
memories  of  other  faces  like  hers — far-away  faces  that 
most  of  us  would  have  liked  to  have  seen  again. 

Just  by  the  low  stone  wall,  that  in  those  days  came 
close  down  to  the  creek,  the  little  lady  stood  under  the 
shade  of  some  cocoanuts,  and  spoke  to  me. 

"  Who  is  that  horrible,  sulky-looking  half-caste  ?  " 
she  said,  jerking  her  sunshade  towards  my  late  com- 
panion. 

"  That  is  Hickson,  Miss  Milly,"  I  said — a  very 
decent,  steady  fellow,  with  a  white  man's  heart. 

"  Decent !  steady  !  and  with  a  white  man's  heart !  " 
and  Miss  Milly's  pink-and-white  cheeks  reddened 
angrily.  "  How  I  hate  that  expression  !  No  wonder 
all  sorts  of  horrible  things  happen  in  these  dreadful 
islands  when  white  men  will  walk  down  the  road  with 
a  cruel,  remorseless  wretch  like  Hickson — the  man 
that  murdered  his  sister." 

"You  should  not  say  that,  Miss  Milly,"  I  said. 
"  Of  course  that  is  the  common  report,  spread  about 

by  the  captain  of  the  German  brig  .     But  that 

is  because  Hickson  nearly  killed  him  for  calling  him  a 
nigger.  And  you  must  remember.  Miss  Milly,  that  I 
was  there  at  the  time.  Hickson  was  our  second  mate. 
His  sister  was  killed,  but  it  is  a  cruel  thing  to  accuse 
him  of  murdering  her  j  he  was  very  fond  of  her." 

"  Oh  dear  !  I  am  so  glad  to  hear  some  one  say  it 
isn't  true,"  and  the  bright  eyes  filled.  "They  say, 
too,  she  was  such  a  pretty  little  thing.     How  ever  did 


Hickson  :  a  Half-Caste.  iiy 

she  get  to  such  a  terrible  place  as  Ponape  ?  Come  up 
and  see  uncle  and  me  before  you  go  away  again. 
Good-bye  now,  I'm  going  to  buy  a  water-bag  at 
GoddefFroy's." 

I  think  that  Hickson  must  have  guessed  that  he 
had  formed  the  subject  of  the  conversation  between 
the  little  lady  and  myself,  for  after  we  had  walked  on 
a  bit  he  said,  suddenly — 

"  I  think  I'll  go  aboard  the  Mench'tkoff  and  ship  ; 
she  wants  some  hands,  and  I  would  like  to  clear  out 
of  this.  Except  two  or  three  that  have  known  me 
for  a  long  time,  like  yourself,  every  one  looks  crooked 
at  me." 

"  I  think  you  are  right,  Hickson,  in  going  away. 
Samoa  is  a  bad  place  for  an  idle  man.  But  won't 
you  come  another  trip  with  us  ?  The  old  man^  thinks 
a  lot  of  you,  and  there's  always  a  second  mate's  berth 
for  you  with  him." 

Hickson's  eyes  flashed  fire.  "  No  !  I'd  as  lief  go 
to  hell  as  ship  again  with  a  man  that  once  put  me  in 
irons,  and  disgraced  me  before  a  lot  of  Kanakas.  I've 
got  White  Blood  enough  in  me  to  make  me  remember 
that.  "  Good-bye,"  and  he  shook  hands  with  me ; 
''  I'll  wait  here  till  the  Menchikoff^s  boat  comes  ashore 
and  go  off  and  see  Bannister." 

Poor  Hickson.  He  was  proud  of  his  White  Blood, 
and  the  incident  he  alluded  to  was  a  bitter  memory  to 
him.  Could  he  ever  forget  it  ?  I  never  could,  and 
thought  of  it  as  I  was  being  pulled  oiF  on  board. 

It  was  at  Jakoits    Harbour — in  Ponape  —  that  it 

Thp  "old  man,''  i.e.,  the  captain. 


1 1 8  Hicks  on  :  a  Half-Caste, 

happened.  Hickson  and  I  were  going  ashore  in  the 
long  boat  to  buy  a  load  of  yams  for  our  native  crew, 
when  he  began  to  tell  me  something  of  his  former 
life. 

His  had  been  a  strange  and  chequered  career,  and 
in  his  wanderings  as  a  trader  and  as  a  boatsteerer  in 
a  Hobart  Town  whaler,  he  had  traversed  every  league 
of  the  wide  Pacific.  With  his  father  and  two  sisters 
he  had,  till  a  few  years  or  so  before  he  joined  us,  been 
trading  at  Yap,  in  the  Western  Carolines.  Here  the 
wandering  old  white  man  had  died.  Of  his  two 
sisters,  one,  the  eldest,  had  perished  with  her  sailor 
husband  by  the  capsizing  of  a  schooner  which  he 
commanded.  The  youngest,  then  about  nine  years 
old,  was  taken  care  of  by  the  captain  of  a  whaler  that 
touched  at  Yap,  until  he  placed  her  in  charge  of  the 
then  newly-founded  American  Mission  at  Ponape, 
and  in  the  same  ship  Hickson  went  on  his  wanderings 
again,  joining  us  at  Tahiti.  And  I  could  see  as  he 
talked  to  me  that  he  had  a  deep  affection  for  her. 

"  What  part  of  Ponape  is  she  living  on  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  I  don't  know,  I'm  sure.  Here,  I  suppose  ;  and  if 
you  don't  mind,  while  you're  weighing  the  yams,  I'll 
go  up  to  the  mission-house  and  inquire." 

"  Right  you  are,  Hickson,"  I  said,  "  but  don't  forget 
to  get  back  early,  it's  a  beastly  risky  pull  out  to  the 
ship  in  the  dark." 

We  went  into  a  little  bay,  and  found  the  natives 
waiting  for  us  with  the  yams,  and  Hickson,  after 
inquiring  the  way  to  the  Mission,  left  me. 

Ponape  in  those  days  was  a  rough  place.  It  was 
the  rendezvous  of  the  American  whaling  fleet,  that 


Hickson  :  a  Half-  Caste,  119 

came  there  for  wood  and  water  and  "  other  supplies," 
before  they  sailed  northward  along  the  grim  coasts  of 
Japan  and  Tchantar  Bay  to  the  whale  grounds  of  the 
Arctic  Seas. 

And  sometimes  there  would  be  trouble  over  the 
"  other  supplies  "  among  the  savagely  licentious  crews 
of  mixed  men  of  all  nations,  and  knives  would  flash, 
and  the  white  sand  of  the  beaches  be  stuck  together 
in  places  with  patches  and  clots  of  dull  red.  It  was 
the  whalers'  paradise  —  a  paradise  of  the  loveliest 
tropical  beauty,  of  palm-shaded  beach  and  verdure- 
clad  mountain  imaginable  ;  a  paradise  of  wonderfully 
beautiful  and  utterly,  hopelessly  immoral  native  women ; 
and,  lastly,  a  paradise  of  cheap  native  grog,  as  potent 
and  fiery  as  if  Hell  had  been  boiled  down  and  concen- 
trated into  a  small  half-pint. 

It  was  dark,  and  the  yams  had  all  been  brought  and 
stored  in  the  boat  before  Hickson  returned.  By  the 
flickering  light  of  a  native  fire  in  a  house  close  by  I 
could  see  that  something  was  the  matter  with  him. 
His  face  was  drawn,  and  his  black  eyes  gleamed  out 
like  dully  burning  coals  from  the  thick  wavy  hair  that 
fell  about  his  temples. 

"  I'm  sorry  I'm  late,"  he  said,  and  the  moment  he 
had  spoken  I  knew  by  the  dangerous  huskiness 
of  his  voice  that  he  had  been  drinking  the  native 
grog. 

Staggering  into  the  boat,  he  sat  down  beside  me 
and  took  the  tiller. 

"Give  way,  fanau  seolt  (children  o  hell),"  he 
growled  to  our  crew  of  Samoans  and  Rotumah  boys, 
"  let  us  get  these  yams  aboard,  and  then  I'm  coming 
back  to  burn  the mission-house  down." 


I20  Hicks  on:  a  Half-Caste. 

Slowly  the  heavily-laden  boat  got  way  on  her,  and 
we  slid  away  from  the  light  of  the  native  fire  out  into 
the  inky  blackness  of  night.  Beyond  a  muttered 
curse  at  the  crew,  and  keeping  up  that  horrible  grind- 
ing of  the  teeth  common  enough  to  men  of  violent 
passions  when  under  great  excitement,  Hickson  said 
nothing  further  till  I  asked — 

"  Hickson,  what's  the  matter  ?  Couldn't  you  find 
your  sister  ? " 

He  sat  up  straight,  and  gripping  my  knee  in  his  left 
hand  till  I  winced,  said,  with  an  awful  preliminary 
burst  of  blasphemy — 

"  By  God,  sir,  she's  gone  to  hell ;  I'll  never  see 
poor  little  Katia  again.  I'm  not  drunk,  don't  you 
think  it.  I  did  have  a  stiff  pull  of  grog  up  in  the 
village  there,  but  I'm  not  drunk ;  but  there's  some- 
thing running  round  and  round  in  my  head  that's 
drivin'  me  mad." 

"  Where  is  she  ?  "  I  asked. 

"God   knows.     I  went  to  the  mission-house  and 

asked    for    the   white    missionary.      The   dog 

wasn't  there.  He  and  his  wife  are  away  in  Honolulu, 
on  a  dollar-cadging  trip.  There  was  about  three  or 
four  of  them  cursed  native  teachers  in  the  house,  and 
all  I  could  get  out  of  them  was  that  Katia  wasn't 
there  now ;  went  away  a  year  ago.  '  Where  to  ? '  I 
said  to  one  fat  pig,  with  a  white  shirt  and  no  pants  on 
him.  *  Don't  know,'  says  he,  in  the  Ponape  lingo ; 
'she's  a  bad  girl  now,  and  has  left  us  holy  ones  of 
God  and  gone  to  the  whaleships.' " 

Coming  from  any  other  man  but  Hickson  I  could 
have  laughed  at  this,  so  truly  characteristic  of  the 
repellent,   canting   native   missionary   of  Micronesia, 


Hickson :  a  Half-Caste.  12 1 

■*> 
but  the  quick,  gasping   breath   of  Hickson  and    his 
trembling  hand  showed  me  how  he  suffered. 

"  I  grabbed  him  and  choked  him  till,  he  was  near 
dead,  and  chucked  him  in  a  heap  outside.  Then  I 
went  all  round  to  the  other  houses,  but  every  one  ran 
away  from  me.  I  got  a  swig  of  grog  from  a  native 
house  and  came  right  back."  Then  he  was  silent,  and 
fixed  his  eyes  on  the  ship's  lights  seaward. 

I  could  not  offer  him  any  sympathy,  so  said  nothing. 
Lighting  our  pipes  we  gazed  out  ahead.  Far  away, 
nearest  the  reef,  lay  our  brig,  her  riding  light  just 
discernible.  A  mile  or  two  further  away  were  three 
or  four  American  whalers,  whose  black  hulls  we  could 
just  make  out  through  the  darkness.  Within  five 
hundred  yards  of  us  lay  a  dismantled  and  condemned 
brig,  the  Kamehameha  IV.^  from  whose  stern  ports 
came  a  flood  of  light  and  the  sounds  of  women's  voices. 

We  were  just  about  abeam  of  her  when  Hickson 
suddenly  exclaimed — 

"Why,  sir,  the  boat  is  sinking.  Pull  hard,  boys, 
pull  for  the  brig.  The  water's  coming  in  wholesale 
over  the  gunwale.  Hadn't  you  fellows  enough  sense 
to  leave  a  place  to  bale  from  ?  "  and  he  slewed  the 
boat's  head  for  the  brig. 

She  had  two  boats  astern.  We  were  just  in  time 
to  get  alongside  one  and  pitch  about  two  tons  of  yams 
into  her,  or  we  would  have  sunk. 

The  noise  we  made  was  heard  on  the  brig,  and  a 
head  was  put  out  of  one  of  the  ports,  and  a  voice 
hailed  us.  This  was  the  brig's  owner  and  captain, 
W . 

"  Come  on  board  and  have  a  cigar ! "  he  called  out. 


122  Hicks  on  :  a  Half- Caste, 

t»  _«________________«_^^ 

Leaving  the  crew  to  bale  out  and  re-ship  the  yams, 
we  clambered  on  deck. 

Now,  this  brig  and  her  captain  had  a  curious 
history.  She  was,  two  years  before,  as  well-found  a 
whaleship  as  ever  sailed  the  Pacific,  but  by  some 
extraordinary  ill-luck  she  had  never  taken  a  fish 
during  a  cruise  of  seven  months,  although  in  the 
company  of  others  that  were  doing  well.  The 
master,  one  of  those  fanatically  religious  New 
Englanders  that  by  some  strange  irony  of  fate  may  be 
often  met  with  commanding  vilely  licentious  crews  of 
whaleships,  was  a  skilled  and  hitherto  lucky  man. 
On  reaching  Ponape  the  whole  of  his  officers  and  crew 
deserted  en  masse,  and  went  off  in  other  ships.     Utterly 

helpless,  W was  left  by  himself.     There  were,  of 

course,  plenty  of  men  to  be  had  in  Ponape,  but  the 
ship's  reputation  for  bad  luck  damned  his  hopes  of 
getting  a  fresh  crew. 

Whether  the  man's  brain  was  affected  by  his 
troubles  I  know  not,  but  after  Hving  like  a  hermit 
for  a  year,  alone  on  the  brig,  a  sudden  change 
took  place  in  his  character  and  conduct.  Sculling 
ashore  in  one  of  his  boats — she  was  a  four-boat  ship — 
he  had  an  interview  with  Nanakin,  the  chief  of  the 
Jakoit's  district,  and  returned  on  board  with  five  or 
six  young  girls,  to  whom  he  gave  permanent  quarters 
on  board,  selling  from  time  to  time  his  sails,  whaling 
gear,  and  trade  to  keep  his  harem  in  luxury.  At  the 
end  of  a  year  the  brig  was  pretty  well  stripped  of  all 

of  any  value;  and    W went  utterly,  hopelessly 

mad. 

•  •  •  •  • 

The  brig's  cabin  was  large  and  roomy.     The  table 


Hickson:  a  Half-Caste,  123 

that  had  once  nearly  filled  it  had  been  taken  away,  and 
the  floor  covered  with  those  peculiarly  made  Ponape 
mats  which,  by  rolling  up  one-half  of  either  end, 
forms  a  combined  couch  and  pillow.  As  Hickson  and 
I,  following  the  crazy  little  captain,  made  our  appear- 
ance, some  four  young  girls,  who  were  lolling  about 
on  the  mats,  started  up,  and  looked  at  us  with  big, 
wondering  eyes,  ablaze  with  curiosity. 

Both  Hickson  and  myself — and  he  had  roved 
throughout  Polynesia  from  his  boyhood — were  struck 
by  the  extraordinary  beauty  of  these  four  young 
creatures ;  so  young  and  innocent  in  looks  j  in  sin,  as 
old  as  Ninon  d'Enclos. 

Placing  one  hand  on  the  shoulder  of  the  girl  nearest 
to  him,  and  fixing  his  big,  blue,  deep-set  eyes  on  us, 
W waved  the  other  towards  the  girls,  and  said — 

"  Welcome,  gentlemen,  welcome.  Behold  these 
little  devils,  who  in  the  guise  of  sunburnt  angels  are 
the  solace  of  a  man  forgotten  by  his  God,  and  the 
father  of  a  family  residing  in  Martha's  Vineyard, 
United  States  of  America." 

Then  he  gave  us  each  a  cigar  and  told  us  to  be 
seated  while  he  got  us  a  glass  of  New  England  rum. 

Hickson,  with  a  contemptuous  smile,  sat  with 
folded  arms  on  a  short,  heavy  stool.  One  of  the  girls, 
unshipping  one  of  the  two  lights  from  the  hook  on 

which  it  hung,  followed  W into  a  state-room  to 

get  the  rum.     Presently  we  heard  them  coming  out, 

W carrying   a   wickerwork-covered    five-gallon 

jar ;    but  two  girls  came  out  instead  of  one.     The 

stranger  kept  close  to  W ,  one  hand  holding  the 

sleeve  of  his  shirt. 


1 24  Hickson  :  a  Half-  Caste. 

Stooping  as  he  set  the  jar  on  the  floor,  I  had  a  good 
view  of  the  new-comer,  and  a  deadly  fear  seized  me. 
I  knew  at  once  that  she  was  Hickson 's  sister  !  He 
was  coarse  and  rough-looking,  but  yet  a  handsome 
man,  and  this  girl's  likeness  to  him  was  very  striking. 
Just  then  Hickson,  not  even  noticing  her,  rose  and 
said   he   was   going  on  deck  to  see  if  the  boat  was 

ready,  when  the  strange  quavering  tones  of  W 

arrested  him. 

"  Be  seated,  sir,  for  another  minute.  Nijilon,  get 
some  glasses.  You  see  here,  gentlemen,  the  fairest 
and  choicest  or  all  my  devil-vestals,  one  that " 

Hickson  looked  at  her,  and  with  a  terrified  wail 

the  girl  clutched  W 's  arm,  and  placed  her  face 

against  his  breast.  With  lips  drawn  back  from  his 
white  teeth  the  half-caste  sprang  up,  and  his  two 
clenched  hands  pawed  the  air.  Then  from  his  throat 
there  came  a  sound  like  a  laugh  strangled  into  a  groan. 

Scarce  knowing  what  I  did  I  got  in  front  of  him. 
He  dashed  me  aside  as  if  I  were  a  child,  and  seized 
the  stool.  And  as  he  swung  it  round  above  his  head 
the  girl  raised  a  face  like  the  hue  of  death  to  his  j 

then  the  blow  fell,  and  she  and  W went  down 

together, 

Hickson  rushed  on  deck  and  tried  to  spring  over- 
board. I  think  he  must  have  struck  the  main  boom, 
for  one  of  our  crew  who  was  on  deck  heard  him  fall. 
We  got  a  light,  and  found  him  lying  senseless.  Two 
of  the  "vestals"  held  him  up  while  I  went  below  for 

some  rum  and  water.     W was  lying  where  he  had 

fallen,  breathing  heavily,  but  not  seriously  injured  as 
far  as  I  could  see.     But  one  look  at  the  closed  eyes  of 


Hicks  on  :  a  Half- Caste.  125 

the  girl  told  me  she  was  past  all  help.  The  heavy 
stool  had  struck  her  on  the  temple. 

Placing  Hickson  in  the  boat  with  two  men  to 
mind  mm,  I   took  the  other  two  with  me  into  the 

cabin  of  the  brig.     W was  seated  on  the  floor, 

held  up  by  two  of  his  harem,  and  muttering  unintelli- 
gibly to  himself.  The  other  two  were  bending  over 
the  figure  on  the  floor,  and  placing  their  hands  on  her 
bosom. 

"Come  away  from  here,  L ,"  said  Harry,  one 

of  our  Rotumah  boys,  to  me ;  "  if  the  Ponape  men 
come  ofF,  they  will  kill  us  all." 

We  could  do  nothing,  so  we  got  back  into  the  boat, 
and  with  the  still  senseless  body  of  Hickson  lying  at 
our  feet,  pulled  out  to  the  ship. 

.  •  •  •  • 

When  he  came  to  he  was  a  madman,  and  for  his 
own  safety  our  captain  put  him  in  irons.  We  put  to 
sea  next  day,  our  skipper,  like  a  wise  man,  saying  it 

would   go   hard    with  us  if  W died,  and    four 

Yankee  whalers  in  port. 

The  day  after  we  got  away  Hickson  was  set  at 
liberty,  and  went  about  his  duties  as  usual.  At 
nightfall  I  went  into  his  deck  cabin.  He  was  lying 
in  his  bunk,  in  the  dark,  smoking.  He  put  out  his 
hand,  and  drew  me  close  up  to  him. 

"  Harry  says  she  is  dead  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  I  whispered. 

"  Poor  little  Katia ;  I  never  meant  to  hurt  her. 
But  I  am  glad  she  is  dead." 

And  he  smoked  his  pipe  in  silence. 


A  BOAriNG  PARrr  OF  rwo 


A  Boating  Party  of  Two, 

The  prison  gate  opened,  and  Number  73  for  a  minute 
or  so  leaned  against  the  wall  to  steady  himself.  The 
strange  clamour  of  the  streets  smote  upon  his  ear  like 
dagger  strokes  into  his  heart,  and  his  breath  came  in 
quick,  short  gasps. 

Some  one  was  speaking  to  him — a  little,  pale-faced, 
red-whiskered  man  with  watery  eyes — and  Challoner, 
once  "  Number  73,"  staring  stupidly  at  him,  tried  to 
understand,  but  failed.  Then,  sidling  up  to  him, 
the  little  man  took  one  of  Challoner's  gaunt  and  long 
hands  between  his  own,  and  a  stout,  masculine  female 
in  a  blue  dress  and  poke  bonnet  and  spectacles  clasped 
the  other  and  called  him  "  brother." 

A  dull  gleam  shone  in  his  sullen  eyes  at  last,  and 
drawing  his  hands  away  from  them,  he  asked — 

«  Who  are  you  ?  " 

The  stout  woman's  sharp  tongue  clattered,  and 
Challoner  listened  stolidly.  Sometimes  a  word  or 
two  in  the  volley  she  fired  would  cause  him  to  shake 
his  head  wearily — "  happiness  in  the  life  heternal," 
"  washed  in  the  blood  of  the  Lamb,"  and  "  cast  yer 
sins  away  an'  come  an'  be  saved  without  money  an' 
without  price." 

10  "9 


130  A  Boating  Party  of  'Two, 

Then  he  remembered  who  he  was  and  who  they 
were — the  warders  had  told  him  of  the  Prison  Gate 
Brigade.     He  turned  to  the  man  and  muttered — 

"  I  want  to  get  away  from  here,"  and  stepped  past 
them,  but  the  woman  laid  her  fat,  coarse  hand  on  his 
sleeve. 

"  Come  'ome  with  us,  brother.  P'r'aps  yer  'ave  a 
mother  or  a  wife  waitin'  to  'ear  from  yer,  an'  we " 

He  dashed  her  hand  aside  savagely — "  Blast  you, 
no  ;  let  me  go  ! " 

Then  with  awkward,  shambling  gait  he  pushed 
through  the  curious  crowd  at  the  prison  gate,  crossed 
the  street,  and  entered  the  nearest  public-house. 

"Another  soul  escaped  us.  Sister  Hannah,"  squeaked 
the  little  man  ;  "  but  we'll  try  and  rescue  him  when 
he  comes  out  from  the  house  of  wickedness  and 
abomination." 

"  Better  leave  him  alone,"  said  a  warder  in  plain 
clothes,  who  just  then  came  through  the  gate,  *'he 
won't  be  saved  at  no  price,  I  can  tell  yer." 

"  Who  is  the  poor  man  ?  "  asked  Sister  Hannah, 
in  a  plaintive,  injured  voice. 

"  Sh  !  Mustn't  ask  them  questions,"  said  the  little 
man. 

But  he  knew,  all  the  same,  that  the  tall,  gaunt  man 
with  the  sallow  face  and  close-cropped  white  hair  was 
Harvey  Challoner,  once  chief  officer  of  the  ship 
Victory^  sentenced  in  Melbourne  to  imprisonment  for 
life  for  manslaughter,  but  released  at  the  end  of  ten 
years. 

The  Victory  murder  trial  had  not  attracted  much 
public  attention,  and  the  prisoner  had  been  defended 


A  Boating  Party  of  Two.  131 

at  the  public  expense.  On  the  voyage  from  London 
to  Australia  the  crew  had  become  discontented.  They 
had  reason  for  their  discontent.  Captain  Cressing- 
ham,  for  all  his  suave,  gentlemanly  shore  manners, 
was  an  adept  at  "hazing,"  and  was  proud  of  the 
distinction  of  making  every  ship  he  commanded  a 
hell  to  the  fo'c's'le  hands.  Sometimes,  with  sneer- 
ing, mocking  tongue,  he  would  compliment  Challoner 
upon  the  courteous  manner  in  which  he  "  addressed 
the  gentlemen  for'ard."  As  for  the  other  two  mates, 
they  were  equally  as  brutal  as  their  captain,  but  lacked 
his  savage,  methodical  vindictiveness. 

When  only  a  few  weeks  out,  Harman,  the  second 
'-mate,  one  day  accused  one  of  the  men  of  "soldiering," 
and  striking  him  in  the  face,  broke  his  nose,  and  as 
the  man  lay  on  the  deck  he  kicked  him  brutally. 
Challoner,  who  was  on  deck  at  the  time,  jumped 
down  off  the  poop,  and  seizing  Harman  by  the  arm, 
called  him  a  cowardly  hound. 

*'  And  you're  a  d d  old  woman,"  was  the  retort. 

Challoner's  passion  overpowered  him,  and  at  the 
end  of  five  minutes  Harman  was  carried  below  badly 
knocked  about,  and  a  stormy  scene  ensued  between 
Challoner  and  the  captain. 

"You  have  all  but  killed  Mr.  Harman.  I  could, 
and  should,  put  you  in  irons  for  the  rest  of  the 
voyage,"  the  captain  had  said. 

There  was  a  steely  glitter  in  the  mate's  dark  eyes 
as  he  answered — 

"  In  dealing  with  ruffians  such  as  Harman  and 
yourself  one  doesn't  stop  at  an  extra  blow  or  two." 

From  that  time  Cressingham  was  his  bitter 
enemy  ;   but   Challoner  did  his  duty  as  chief  officer 


132  A  Boating  Tarty  of  Two. 

too  faithfully  to  give  the  captain  a  chance  against 
him. 

Day  after  day  had  passed.  The  sullen  discontent 
of  the  crew  had  changed  into  outspoken  hatred  and  a 
thirst  for  revenge  upon  the  captain  and  Harman  and 
Barton — the  latter  the  third  mate — and  Challoner, 
who  knew  what  was  brewing,  dared  not  open  his 
mouth  to  any  one  of  the  three  upon  the  subject. 
Between  himself  and  Cressingham  and  the  other  two 
there  had  now  sprung  up  a  silent  yet  fierce  antagonism, 
which  the  crew  were  quick  to  perceive,  and  from 
which  they  augured  favourably  for  themselves. 

One  night,  just  as  Challoner  had  relieved  the 
second  mate,  some  of  the  hands  from  both  watches 
marched  boldly  aft  and  asked  him  if  he  would  take 
command  of  the  ship.  He  had  only  to  say  the  word, 
they  said.  They  were  tired  of  being  "  bashed  "  and 
starved  to  death  by  the  skipper  and  two  mates,  and 
if  he  would  navigate  the  ship  to  Melbourne  they 
would  keep  him  free  from  interference,  and  take  the 
consequences,  &c. 

"  Go  for'ard,  you  fools,"  said  Challoner,  with 
assumed  harshness,  "  don't  talk  mutiny  to  me." 

A  step  sounded  on  the  deck  behind  him,  and 
Cressingham's  sneering  tones  were  heard. 

"  Discussing  mutiny,  are  you,  Mr.  Challoner  ?  By 
God,  sir,  I've  suspected  you  long  enough.  Go  below, 
sir  ;  or  go  for'ard  with  these  fellows.  You'll  do  no 
more  mate's  duty  aboard  of  this  ship.  Ah,  Colliss, 
you're  one  of  the  ringleaders,  are  you  ?  "  And  in  an 
instant  he  seized  a  seaman  by  the  throat,  and  called 
loudly  for  Barton  and  Harman  to  help  him. 

Before  they  could  respond  to  his  call  the  poop  was 


A  Boating  Party  of  'Tivo.  133 

black  with  struggling  men.  Cressingham,  mad  with 
passion,  had  CoUiss  down  trying  to  strangle  him,  and 
Challoner,  fearing  murder  would  be  done,  had  thrown 
himself  upon  the  captain  and  tried  to  make  him 
release  his  grip  of  the  man's  throat.  At  that  moment 
a  sailor  called  out — 

"  Stand  by,  chaps,  for  Barton  and  Harman,  and 
drop  'em  the  moment  they  shows  up.  Mr.  Challoner's 
got  the  old  man  safe." 

But  Messrs.  Harman  and  Barton  were  tough 
customers.  The  loud  cries  on  deck  and  heavy 
tramping  of  feet  told  them  that  a  crisis  had  occurred, 
and  they  dashed  up,  each  with  a  revolver  in  hand — 
only  to  be  felled  from  behind  ere  they  could  fire  a 
shot.  Challoner,  letting  the  captain  free,  sprang  to 
their  aid.  But  he  came  too  late,  for  before,  with 
blows,  kicks,  and  curses,  he  could  force  his  way 
through  the  swaying,  surging  mass  of  men  that  hid 
the  fallen  officers  from  his  view,  he  heard  a  sound — 
the  sound  of  a  man's  skull  as  it  was  smashed  in  by  a 
heavy  blow. 

"  He's  done  for,"  said  a  voice,  with  a  savage  laugh, 
"scoot,  chaps,  scoot.  This  shindy  will  keep  the  old 
man  quiet  a  bit,  now  one  of  his  fightin'  cocks  is 
gone,"  and  the  men  tumbled  down  off  the  poop  as 
quick  as  their  legs  could  carry  them,  leaving  Challoner 
and  the  two  prone  figures  behind  them.  Cressingham 
had  gone  below  for  his  revolver. 

"  Steward,"  called  Challoner,  "  bring  a  light  here, 
quick,  and  see  where  the  captain  is,"  and,  stooping 
down,  he  tried  to  raise  Harman,  then  laid  him  down 
with  a  shudder- — his  brains  were  scattered  on  the  deck. 
Barton  was  alive,  but  unconscious. 


134  ^  Boating  Party  of  Two, 

As  Challoner  was  about  to  rise,  Captain  Cressing- 
ham  stood  over  him  and  raised  his  arm,  and  dealt  him 
a  crashing  blow  with  a  belaying  pin.  When  he 
regained  consciousness  he  was  in  irons. 

A  month  later  and  he  stood  in  the  dock  charged 
with  murder.  The  principal  witnesses  against  him 
were  his  captain  and  Barton,  the  third  mate.  The 
crew,  who,  of  course,  were  also  witnesses  in  the  case, 
didn't  worry  much  about  him.  It  wasn't  likely  they 
would  run  their  necks  into  a  noose  if  it  could  be 
placed  round  any  one  else's.  And  in  this  instance — 
superinduced  by  a  vision  of  the  gallows  —  fo'c's'le 
hands  stuck  to  one  another  and  lied  manfully  together. 
None  of  them  "  had  hurt  Mr.  Harman." 

But  it  was  upon  Cressingham's  evidence  that  his 
fate  hung  ;  and  Cressingham,  suave,  handsome,  and 
well-dressed,  told  the  court  how  Challoner  had  once 
attempted  to  murder  Harman  in  the  earlier  part  of  the 
voyage.  Barton,  with  his  arm  in  a  sling,  corroborated 
the  he  with  blunt  cheerfulness. 

His  Honour  summed  up  dead  against  the  prisoner, 
and  the  jury,  impressed  by  the  calm,  gentlemanly 
appearance  of  Captain  Cressingham,  and  the  haggard, 
unshaven,  and  guilty  look  of  the  man  whose  life  they 
held  in  their  hands,  were  not  long  in  considering  their 
verdict. 

The  prisoner  was  found  guilty,  but  with  a  recom- 
mendation to  mercy. 

And  then  the  judge,  who  was  cross  and  tired,  made 
a  brief  but  affecting  speech,  and  sentenced  him  to 
imprisonment  for  life. 

He  went  into  his  prison  cell  with  hair  as  black  as 


A  Boating  Party  of  Two.  135 

night,  and   came   out   again   as  white  as   a   man  of 
seventy. 


In  a  back  room  of  the  public-house  he  sat  and 
waited  till  he  had  courage  and  strength  enough  to 
face  the  streets  again.  And  as  he  waited,  he  gave 
himself  up  to  visions  of  the  future — to  the  day  when, 
with  his  hand  on  Cressingham's  lying  throat,  he 
would  see  his  face  blacken  and  hear  the  rattling 
agonies  of  his  gasps  for  breath.  He  leaned  back  in  his 
chair  and  laughed  hoarsely.  The  unearthly,  hideous 
sound  startled  him,  and  he  glanced  round  nervously  as 
if  he  feared  to  betray  his  secret.  Then  he  drank 
another  glass  of  brandy,  and  with  twenty-six  shillings 
of  prison  money  in  his  pocket  and  ten  years  of  the 
blackest  hatred  in  his  heart,  he  went  out  again  into 
the  world  to  begin  his  search — for  Cressingham  and 
revenge. 


IL 


The  people  of  Port ,  on  the  east  coast  of  New 

Zealand,  were  charmed  with  the  handsome  commander 
of  the  biggest  ocean  steamer  that  had  yet  visited  the 
port,  and  on  the  eve  of  his  departure  gave  Captain 
Cressingham  the  usual  banquet.  Banquets  to  captains 
of  new  lines  of  steamers  are  good  things  to  boom  the 
interests  of  a  budding  seaport  town,  and  so  a  few  score 
of  the  "  warmest "  men  in  the  place  cheerfully  planked 
down  their  guinea  each  for  the  occasion. 

The  Belted  Will  had  hauled  out  from  the  wharf 
and  lay  a  mile  or  so  from  the  shore  ready  for  sea,  and 


136  A  Boating  Party  of  'Two. 

the  captain  had  told  his  chief  officer  to  send  a  boat 
ashore  for  him  at  twelve  o'clock. 

Among  the  crowd  that  lounged  about  the  entrance 
to  the  town  hall  and  watched  for  the  arrival  of  the 
guest  of  the  evening  was  a  tall,  dark,  rough-looking 
man  with  white  curly  hair.  One  or  two  of  those 
present  seemed  to  know  him,  and  presently  some  one 
addressed  him. 

*'  Hallo,  Harry  !  come  to  have  a  look  at  the  swells  ? 
'Taint  often  you  come  out  o'  nights." 

The  white-haired  man  nodded  without  speaking, 
and  then  moved  away  again.  Presently  the  man  he 
was  looking  for  was  driven  up,  and  the  loungers  drew 
aside  to  let  him  pass  up  the  steps  into  the  blaze  of 
light  under  the  vestibule  of  the  hall,  where  he  was 
welcomed  by  half  a  dozen  effusive  citizens.  For  a 
moment  he  stood  and  chatted,  and  the  man  who 
watched  clenched  his  brawny  hands  and  ground  his 
teeth.  Then  Captain  Cressingham  disappeared,  and 
the  tall  man  walked  slowly  away  again  in  the  direction 
of  the  wharves. 

At  eleven  o'clock  Cressingham's  boat  came  ashore, 
and  the  crew  as  they  made  her  fast  grumbled  and 
cursed  in  true  sailor  fashion. 

"  Are  you  the  chaps  from  the  Belted  Will?  "  said  a 
man,  who  was  leaning  against  one  of  the  wharf 
sheds. 

"  Yes  ;  who  are  you,  mister  ?  "  said  one  of  them. 

"  I'm  Harry — one  of  the  hands  that  was  stowing 
wool  aboard.  I  heard  you  was  coming  ashore  for  the 
captain,  and  as  you  won't  see  him  for  the  next  couple 
of  hours,  I  thought  I'd  come  down  and  ask  you  to 


A  Boating  Party  of  Two.  137 

come  up  and  have  a  couple  of  nips.     It's  cold  loafing 
about  here.     I  live  pretty  close." 

"  You're  one  o'  the  right  sort.    What  say,  Peter  ?  " 
Peter  was  only  too  glad.     The  prospect  of  getting 
into  a  warm   house  was   enough    inducement,   even 
without  the  further  bliss  of  a  couple  of  nips. 

In  half  an  hour  the  two  men  were  helplessly  drunk 
in  Harry's  room,  and  their  generous  host  carefully 
placing  another  bottle  (not  doctored  this  time)  of  rum 
on  the  table  for  them  when  they  awoke,  quietly  went 
out  and  locked  the  door  behind  him.  Then  he  walked 
quickly  back  to  where  the  Belted  JVilPs  boat  lay,  and 
descending  the  steps,  got  into  her  and  seemed  to  busy 
himself  for  a  while.  He  soon  found  what  he  was 
looking  for,  and  then  came  the  sound  of  inrushing 
water.  Then  he  drew  the  boat  up  again  to  the  steps, 
got  out,  and  casting  off  the  painter,  slung  it  aboard, 
and  shoyed  her  into  the  darkness. 


For  another  hour  he  waited  patiently,  and  then 
came  the  rattle  of  wheels,  and  loud  voices  and 
laughter,  as  a  vehicle  drew  up  at  the  deserted  wharf. 

"Why  not  stay  ashore  to-night,  captain,"  said  one 
of  the  guest's  champagne-laden  companions,  "  and 
tell  your  man  to  go  back  ?  " 

"No,  no,"  laughed  Cressingham.  "I  don't  like 
the  look  of  the  weather,  and  must  get  aboard  right 
away.     Boat  ahoy  !     Where  are  you,  men  ?  " 

*'  Your  boat  isn't  here,  sir,"  said  a  gruff  voice,  and 
a  tall  man  advanced  from  the  darkness  of  the  sheds. 
"  I  saw  the  men  up  town,  both  pretty  full,  and  heard 
them  laughing  and  say  they  meant  to  have  a  night 


138  A  Boating  Party  of  'Two. 

ashore.  It's  my  belief  they  turned  her  adrift  pur- 
posely." 

Cressingham  cursed  them  savagely,  and  then  turned 
to  the  tall  man. 

"  Can  you  get  me  a  boat  ?  " 

"Well,  sir,  there's  a  big  heavy  boat  belonging  to 
my  boss  that  I  can  get,  and  I  don't  mind  putting  you 
aboard.  We  can  sail  out  w^ith  this  breeze  in  no  time. 
She's  lying  under  the  coal-wharf." 

*'  That'll  do.  Good-bye,  gentlemen.  I  trust  we 
shall  all  meet  again  in  another  eight  months  or  so." 

The  big  man  led  the  way,  and  in  a  few  minutes 
they  reached  the  coal  wharf,  under  which  the  boat 
was  moored.  She  was  a  heavy,  clumsily-built  craft, 
and  Cressingham,  on  getting  aboard  and  striking  a 
match,  cursed  her  filthy  state.  The  tall  man  stepped 
to  the  mast  and  hoisted  the  lug-sail,  and  Cressingham, 
talcing  the  tiller,  kept  her  out  towards  the  Belted  Will, 
whose  riding  light  was  discernible  right  ahead. 

"We  must  look  out  for  the  buoys,  sir,"  said  the 
grufF-voiced  man,  as  the  breeze  freshened  up  and  the 
heavy  boat  quickened  her  speed. 

"All  right,"  said  Cressingham,  and  pulling  out  a 
cigar  from  his  overcoat  he  bent  his  head  and  struck 
a  hght. 

Ere  he  raised  it  the  white-haired  man  had  sprung 
upon  him  like  a  tiger,  and  seized  his  throat  in  his 
brawny  hands.  For  a  minute  or  so  Cressingham 
struggled  in  that  deadly  grip,  and  then  lay  limp  and 
insensible  in  the  bottom  of  the  boat. 

Challoner,  with  malignant  joy,  leaned  over  him  with 
a  world  of  hate  in  his  black  eyes,  and  then  proceeded 
to  business. 


A  Boating  Party  of  Two,  139 

Lifting  the  unconscious  man  he  carried  him  for'ard, 
and,  placing  him  upon  a  thwart,  gagged  and  bound 
him  securely.  Then  he  went  aft  and,  taking  the 
tiller,  hauled  the  sheet  in  and  kept  the  boat  away 
again  upon  her  course  for  the  Belted  Will. 

He  passed  within  a  quarter  of  a  mile  of  the  huge, 
black  mass  with  the  bright  riding  light  shining  upon 
the  fore-stay,  and  the  look-out  from  the  steamer  took 
no  notice  of  the  boat  as  she  swept  past  toward  the 
open  sea. 

•  •  •  •  • 

Daylight  at  last.  For  six  hours  the  boat  had  swept 
before  the  strong  northerly  wind,  and  the  land  lay 
nearly  thirty  miles  astern,  lost  in  a  sombre  bank  of 
heavy  clouds  and  mist.  Challoner  had  taken  off  his 
rough  overcoat  and  thrown  it  over  the  figure  of  his 
enemy.  He  did  not  want  him  to  perish  of  cold. 
And  as  he  steered  he  fixed  his  eyes,  lighted  up  with 
an  unholy  joy,  upon  the  bent  and  crushed  figure 
before  him. 

Cressingham  was  conscious  now,  and  stared  with 
horror-filled  eyes  at  the  grim  creature  in  the  craft 
before  him — a  gaunt,  dark- faced  man,  clad  in  a  striped 
guernsey  and  thin  cotton  pants,  with  a  worn  and 
ragged  woollen  cap  stuck  upon  his  thick  masses  of 
white  curly  hair.     Who  was  he  ?     A  madman. 

Challoner  seemed  to  take  no  notice  of  him,  and 
looked  out  upon  the  threatening  aspect  of  sea  and  sky 
with  an  unconcerned  face.  Presently  he  hauled  aft 
the  sheet  a  bit,  and  kept  the  boat  on  a  more  westerly 
course,  and  the  bound  and  wondering  man  on  the 
for'ard  thwart  watched  his  movements  intently. 

The  boat  had  made  a  little  water,  and  the  white- 


140  A  Boating  Party  of  Two. 

headed  man  stooped  and  baled  it  out  carefully  j  then 
he  looked  up  and  caught  his  prisoner's  eye. 

"  Ha,  ha,  Cressingham,  how  are  you  ?  Isn't  it 
delightful  that  we  should  meet  again  ?  " 

A  strange  inarticulate  cry  broke  from  Cressingham. 

«  Who  are  you  ?  " 

"  What !  is  it  possible  that  you  don't  remember  me  ? 
I  am  afraid  that  that  banquet  champagne  has  affected 
you  a  little.  Try  back,  my  dear  fellow.  Don't  you 
remember  the  Victory  ?  " 

Ah  !  he  remembered  now,  and  a  terrible  fear  chilled 
his  life-blood  and  froze  his  once  sneering  tongue  into 
silence. 

"  Ah  !  I  see  you  do,"  and  Challoner  laughed  with 
Satanic  passion.  "And  so  we  meet  again — with  our 
positions  reversed.  Once,  unless  my  memory  fails 
me,  you  put  me  in  irons.  Now,  Captain  Cressing- 
ham, I  have  you  seized  up,  and  we  can  have  a  quiet 
little  chat — all  to  ourselves." 

No  answer  came  from  Cressingham,  With  dilated, 
horror-stricken  eyes  and  panting  breath  he  was  turned 
into  stone.  The  wretched  man's  silence  at  last  broke 
up  the  depths  of  his  maddened  tormentor's  hatred,  and 
with  a  bound  he  sprang  to  his  feet  and  raised  his  hand 
on  high. 

"  Ah  !  God  is  good  to  me  at  last,  Cressingham. 
For  ten  years  I  hungered  and  thirsted  for  the  day  that 
would  set  me  free,  free  to  search  the  world  over  for 
the  lying,  murderous  dog  that  consigned  me,  an  inno- 
cent man,  to  a  lifelong  death.  And  when  the  day 
came,  sooner  than  I  thought  or  you  thought — for  I 
suffered  for  ten  years  instead  of  for  life — I  waited,  a 
free  man  till  I  got  you  into  my  power." 


A  Boating  Party  oj  'Two.  141 

His  hand  fell  to  his  side  again,  and  then  he  leaned 
forward  and  laughed. 

Cressingham,  with  death  creeping  into  his  heart,  at 
last  found  his  voice. 

"  Are  you  going  to  murder  me  ?  "  he  said. 

"Yes,"  said  Challon^r,  slowly,  "I  am  going  to 
murder  you.  But  not  quickly.  There  would  be  no 
joy  in  that.  I  want  you  to  taste  some  of  my  hideous 
past — some  little  space,  if  only  for  a  day  or  two,  of 
that  ten  long  years  of  agony  I  spent  in  Pentridge." 

Then  he  sat  down  again,  and  opening  the  locker  in 
the  stern  sheets,  took  out  food  and  water,  and  placing 
it  beside  him,  ate  and  drank.  But  he  gave  none  to 
Cressingham. 

He  finished  his  meal,  and  then  looked  again  at  his 
prisoner,  and  spoke  calmly  again. 

"  You  are  comfortable,  I  trust.  Captain  Cressing- 
ham ?  Not  cold,  I  am  certain,  for  you  have  my 
overcoat  in  addition  to  your  own.  Do  you  know 
why  I  gave  it  to  you  ?  Just  to  keep  you  nice  and 
warm  during  the  night,  and — alive.  But,  as  I  feel 
chilly  myself  now,  I'll  take  it  from  you.  Thanks,'* 
and  he  laughed  mockingly  as  he  leaned  over  and 
snatched  it  away. 

"You  see,  sir,  we  are  going  on  a  long  cruise — 
down  to  the  Snares,  perhaps — and  I  must  keep  warm 
myself,  or  else  how  can  I  talk  to  you  to  break  the 
monotony  of  the  voyage  ?  ...  It  is  no  use  looking 
astern,  my  friend.  There's  only  one  tug  in  port,  and 
she  is  not  in  sea-going  trim,  so  we've  got  a  good  start 
of  any  search  party.  And  as  I  don't  want  to  die 
myself,  we  won't  run  away  from  the  land  altogether." 

And    so   the    day    passed,   agony   and    deadly    fear 


142  A  Boating  Tarty  of  Two. 

blanching  the  face  of  one,  and  cruel,  murderous  joy 
filling  the  heart  of  the  other.  Once,  as  the  last  dying 
gleams  of  the  wintry  sun  for  a  few  brief  moments 
shone  over  the  blackened  waters,  Challoner  saw  a  long 
stream  of  steamer's  smoke  between  the  boat  and  the 
misty  line  of  coast,  and  he  lowered  the  sail  and  let  the 
boat  drift  till  darkness  enwrapped  them  again. 

Once  more  he  took  out  food  and  water,  and  ate  and 
drank,  and  then  lit  his  pipe  and  smoked,  and  watched 
with  eyes  that  glared  with  the  lust  of  murder  and 
revenge  the  motionless  being  before  him. 

Only  once  in  all  that  night  of  horror  to  Cressing- 
ham  did  he  speak,  and  his  voice  shook  and  quivered, 
and  came  in  choking  gasps. 

"  Challoner,  for  the  love  of  Christ,  kill  me  and  end 
my  misery." 

"  Ha  !  still  alive.  Captain  Cressingham  !  That  is 
very  satisfactory — to  me  only,  of  course.  Kill  you, 
did  you  say  ? "  and  again  his  wild  demoniac  laugh 
pealed  out  through  the  black  loneliness  of  the  night. 
"  No,  I  don't  intend  to  kill  you.  I  want  to  see  you 
suffer  and  die  by  inches.  I  want  you  to  call  upon 
God  to  help  you,  so  that  I  can  mock  at  you,  and  defy 
Him  to  rob  me  of  my  vengeance." 

A  shuddering  moan,  and  then  silence  again. 

Again  the  day  broke,  and  as  the  ocean  mists  cleared 
and  rolled  away,  and  the  grey  morning  light  fell  upon 
the  chilled  and  stiffening  form  of  his  enemy,  Challoner 
came  up  and  looked  into  his  face,  and  spoke  to  him. 

No  answer  came  from  his  pallid  lips,  and  Challoner 
thrust  his  hand  under  Cressingham's  coat  and  felt  his 
heart.  He  was  still  alive,  and  presently  the  closed  and 
swollen  eyelids  opened,  and  as  he  met  the  glance  of 


A  Boating  Party  of  T'wo,  143 

the  man  who  leaned  over  him  an  anguished  groan  burst 
from  his  heart. 

Challoner  looked  at  him  intently  for  awhile  ;  then 
he  hoisted  the  sail  again,  and,  taking  the  tiller,  headed 
the  boat  in  for  the  land.  The  wind  had  hauled  round 
during  the  night,  and  although  the  boat  made  a  lot  of 
leeway  there  was  no  danger  now  of  being  blown  away 
from  the  land  altogether. 

As  the  sun  mounted  higher,  and  the  grey  outlines 
of  the  shores  darkened,  he  glanced  carefully  over  the 
sea  to  the  north-west.  Nothing  in  sight  there.  But 
as  the  boat  lifted  to  a  sea  he  saw  about  five  miles  to 
leeward  that  a  big  steamer  was  coming  up.  In  half 
an  hour,  unless  she  changed  her  course,  she  would  be 
up  to  the  boat  and  could  not  fail  to  see  her. 

In  five  minutes  more  Cressingham  lay  in  the  bottom 
of  the  boat  unbound,  but  dying  fast,  and  Challoner 
was  speaking  to  him. 

"  Cressingham,  you  are  dying.  You  know  that, 
don't  you  ?  And  you  know  that  I  am  not  lying  when 
I  tell  you  that  there  is  a  steamer  within  five  miles  of 
us.     In  less  than  half  an  hour  she  will  be  up  to  us." 

One  black,  swollen  hand  was  raised  feebly,  and  then 
fell  back,  and  a  hoarse  sound  came  from  his  throat. 

"  Well,  now  listen.  I  said  I  wanted  to  see  you 
die — die  as  you  are  dying  now — with  my  face  over 
yours,  watching  you  die.  And  you  die  and  I  live. 
I  can  live  now,  Cressingham,  and  perhaps  the  memory 
of  those  ten  years  of  death  in  life  that  I  suffered 
through  you  will  be  easier  to  bear.  And  yet  there  is 
one  thing  more  that  you  must  know — something  that 
will  make  it  harder  for  you  to  meet  your  Maker,  but 
easier  for  me.  .  .  .  Listen."     He  knelt    beside  him 


144  ^  Boating  Party  of  Two. 

and  almost  shrieked  it :  *'  I  had  no  one  in  the  whole 
world  to  care  for  me  when  I  was  tried  for  my  life 
but  my  wife — and  you,  you  fiend,  you  murderer — you 
killed  her.     She  died  six  years  ago — starved  and  died. 

Cressingham,  with  closed  eyes,  lay  with  his  head 
supported  on  Challoner's  left  arm.  Presently  a  tremor 
shook  his  frame,  a  fleck  of  foam  bubbled  from  between 
his  lips,  and  then  the  end. 

With  cold,  merciless  eyes  the  other  regarded  him, 
with  clenched  hands  and  set  teeth.  Then  he  went 
for'ard  and  unbent  the  boat's  kedge,  and  with  the 
same  lashings  that  had  bound  the  living  man  to  the 
thwart  he  lashed  the  kedge  across  the  dead  man's 
chest. 

He  stood  up  and  looked  at  the  approaching  steamer, 
and  then  he  raised  the  body  in  his  arms  and  dropped  it 
over  the  side. 

•  •  •  •  > 

A  few  days  later  the  papers  said  that  the  steamer 
Maungatapu  had  picked  up  a  man  named  Harry,  who 
with  Captain  Cressingham,  of  the  Belted  Will^  had 

been  blown  out  to  sea  from  Port .     It  appeared 

from  the  survivor's  statement  that  during  a  heavy 
squall  the  same  night  Captain  Cressingham  had  fallen 
overboard,  and  his  companion  was  unable  to  rescue 
him. 


«  THE  BEST  ASSET  IN  A  FOOL'S 
ESTATE*' 


11 


"  The  Best  Asset  in  a  FooFs  Estate.^^ 

A  SLIGHT  smile  lit  up  the  clear-cut,  sombre  face  of 
Lawson  from  Safune,  as  looking  up  from  his  boat  at 
Etheridge's  house  he  saw  the  glint  of  many  lights 
shining  through  the  walls  of  the  roughly-built  store. 
It  was  well  on  towards  midnight  when  he  had  left 
Safune  and  sailed  round  to  Etheridge's,  a  distance  of 
twelve  or  fifteen  miles,  and  as  his  boat  touched  the 
sand  the  first  streaks  of  dawn  were  changing  the  dead 
whiteness  of  the  beach  into  a  dull  grey — soon  to 
brighten  into  a  creamy  yellow  as  the  sun  pierced  the 
heavy  land-mist. 

A  native  or  two,  wrapped  from  head  to  foot  in  the 
long  lava  lava  of  white  calico,  passed  him  as  he 
followed  the  windings  of  the  track  to  Etheridge's,  but 
gave  him  no  sign  of  greeting.  Had  he  been  any  one 
of  the  few  other  white  men  living  on  Savaii  the  dark 
men  would  have  stopped  him  and,  native-like,  inquired 
the  reason  of  his  early  visit  to  their  town.  But  they 
knew  Lawson  too  well.  Matdaitu  they  called  him — 
devil-faced.  And  in  this  they  were  not  far  wrong, 
for  Lawson,  with  his  dark  olive  skin,  jet  black  beard, 
and  eyes  that  belied  the  ever-smiling  lips,  was  not  a 
man  whom  people  would  be  unanimous  in  trusting. 


148       *'  The  Best  Asset  in  a  Fool's  Estate.'* 

The  natives  knew  him  better  than  did  his  few  white 
acquaintances  in  Samoa,  for  here,  among  them,  the 
mask  that  hid  his  inner  nature  from  his  compeers  was 
sometimes  put  aside,  though  never  thrown  away.  But 
Etheridge,  the  hot-blooded  young  Englishman  and 
friend  of  six  months'  standing,  thought  and  spoke  of 
him  as  "  the  best  fellow  in  the  world." 

Etheridge  had  been  taking  stock,  and  the  wearisome 
work  had  paled  his  usually  florid  features.  His  face 
flushed  with  pleasure  at  Lawson's  quiet  voice : — 

"  Hard  at  it,  Etheridge  ?  I  don't  know  which 
looks  the  paler — you  or  Lalia.  Why  on  earth  didn't 
you  send  for  me  sooner  ?  Any  one  would  think  you 
were  some  poor  devil  of  a  fellow  trading  for  the 
Dutchmen  instead  of  being  an  independent  man. 
Now,  I'm  hungry  and  want  breakfast — that  is,  if 
Lalia  isn't  too  tired  to  get  it,"  and  he  looked  com- 
passionately at  Etheridge's  young  half-caste  wife,  sister 
to  his  own. 

"  I'm  not  tired,"  said  the  girl,  quietly.  "  I've  had 
easy  tasks — counting  packets  of  fish-hooks,  grosses  of 
cotton,  and  things  like  that.  Billy  wouldn't  let  me 
help  him  with  the  prints  and  heavy  things,"  and  with 
the  faintest  shadow  of  a  smile  on  her  lips  she  passed 
through  into  the  sitting-room  and  thence  outside  to 
the  little  thatched  cook-house  a  few  yards  away. 
With  ardent  infatuation  Etheridge  rested  his  blue  eyes 
on  the  white-robed,  slender  figure  as  she  stood  at  the 
door  and  watched  the  Niue  cook  light  his  fire  for  an 
early  cup  of  coffee — the  first  overture  to  breakfast  at 
Etheridge's. 


*'  T'he  Best  Asset  in  a  FooPs  Estate"       149 

"  By  Jove,  Lawson,  I'm  the  luckiest  man  in  Samoa 
to  get  such  a  wife  as  Lalia — and  I  only  a  new-chum 
to  the  Islands.  I  believe  she'd  work  night  and  day  if 
I'd  allow  it.  And  if  it  hadn't  been  for  you  I'd  never 
have  met  her  at  all,  but  would  have  married  some  fast 
creature  who'd  have  gone  through  me  in  a  month  and 
left  me  a  dead-broken  beachcomber." 

"Yes,"  said  Lawson,  "she  is  a  good  girl,  and, 
except  her  sister,  about  the  only  half-caste  I  ever  knew 
whom  I  would  trust  implicitly.  Their  mother  was  a 
Hervey  Island  woman,  as  I  told  you,  and  Lalia  has 
been  with  Terere  and  me  all  over  Polynesia,  and  I 
think  I  know  her  nature.  She's  fond  of  you,  Etheridge, 
in  her  quiet,  undemonstrative  way,  but  she's  a  bit  shy 
yet.  You  see,  you  don't  speak  either  Rarotongan  or 
Samoan,  and  half-caste  wives  hate  talking  English. 
Now,  tell  me,  what  is  it  worrying  you  ?  You  haven't 
had  another  attack  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  the  younger  man,  *'  I  have — and  a  bad 
one,  too,  and  that's  why  I  sent  for  you.  The  stock- 
taking is  nothing  j  but  I  was  afraid  I  might  get 
another  that  would  stiffen  me  properly.  Look  here, 
Lawson,  you've  been  a  true  friend  to  me.  You  picked 
me  up  six  months  ago  a  drunken,  half-maddened  beast 
in  Apia  and  saved  my  life,  reason,  and  money, 
and " 

"  Bosh  !  "  said  Lawson,  taking  his  coffee  from  the 
hand  of  Etheridge's  wife  ;  "  don't  think  of  it,  my  boy. 
Every  man  goes  a  bit  crooked  sometimes  ;  so  don't 
thank  me  too  much." 

Etheridge  waited  till  his  wife  was  gone  and  then 
resumed :  "  I've  been  horribly  scared,  Lawson,  over 
this,"  and  he  placed  his  hand  over  his  heart,  "  I  was 


150       **  The  Best  Asset  in  a  FooVs  Estate" 

lifting  a  case  of  biscuits  when  I  dropped  like  a  pithed 
bullock.  When  I  came  to,  Lalia  was  bathing  my 
face.  ...  I  feel  pretty  shaky  still.  The  doctor  at 
GoddefFroy's  warned  me,  too — said  I'd  go  off  suddenly 
if  I  wasn't  careful.  My  father  and  one  brother  died 
like  that.  And  I  want  to  talk  things  over  with  you 
in  case,  you  know." 

Lawson  nodded. 

"  Everything  I  have  is  for  her,  Lawson — land, 
house,  trade,  and  money.  You're  pretty  sure  there's 
no  irregularity  in  that  will  of  mine,  aren't  you  ?  " 

"  Sure.  It's  very  simply  written.  It's  properly 
witnessed,  and  would  hold  in  any  court  of  law  if 
contested.  And  perhaps  your  people  in  Australia 
might  do  that." 

Etheridge  reddened.  "  No  ;  I  cut  adrift  from  'em 
long  ago.  Grog,  you  know.  Beyond  yourself  and 
Lalia,  I  haven't  a  soul  who'll  bother  about  me.  I 
think,  Lawson,  I'll  take  a  run  up  to  Apia  and  see  the 
Dutch  doctor  again.     Fearful  cur,  am  I  not  ?  " 

"Come,  Etheridge,"  and  Lawson  laid  his  smooth, 
shapely  hand — how  dishonest  are  shapely  hands  ! — on 
the  other's  arm.  "  You're  a  little  down.  Anything 
wrong  with  one's  heart  always  gives  a  man  a  bad 
shaking.  There's  Lalia  calling  us  to  breakfast,  so  I 
won't  say  any  more  but  this  :  Even  if  Lalia  wasn't 
my  wife's  sister,  and  anything  happened  to  you,  there's 
always  a  home  for  her  in  my  house.  I'd  do  that  for 
your  sake  alone,  old  man,  putting  aside  the  principle 
I  go  on  of  showing  respect  to  any  white  man's  wife, 
even  if  she  were  a  Oahu  girl  and  had  rickety  ideas  of 
morality." 


"  The  Best  Asset  in  a  FooPs  Estate"       1 5 1 

When  Lawson  had  first  met  him  and  had  carried 
him  down  to  his  station  on  Savaii,  nursed  him  through 
his  illness,  and  treated  him  like  a  brother,  Etheridge, 
with  the  impulsive  confidence  of  his  simple  nature, 
poured  out  his  thanks  and  told  his  history,  and  eagerly- 
accepted  Lawson's  suggestion  to  try  his  hand  at 
trading,  instead  of  continuing  his  erratic  wanderings — 
wanderings  which  could  only  end  in  his  "going 
broke"  at  Tahiti  or  Honolulu.  Fifteen  miles  or  so 
away,  Lawson  said,  there  was  a  village  with  a  good 
opening  for  a  trader.  How  much  could  he  put  into 
it  ?  Well,  he  had  ^^500  with  him,  and  there  was 
another  thousand  in  Sydney — the  last  of  five.  Ample, 
said  his  host.  So  one  day  the  land  was  bought,  a  house 
and  store  put  up,  and  Etheridge  commenced  life  as  a 
trader. 

The  strange  tropic  beauty  of  the  place  and  the  ways 
of  the  people  soon  cast  their  spell  over  Etheridge's 
imaginative  nature,  and  he  was  as  happy  as  a  man 
possibly  could  be — with  a  knowledge  that  his  life  hung 
by  a  thread.  How  slender  that  thread  was  Lawson 
knew,  perhaps,  better  than  he.  The  German  doctor 
had  said,  "  You  must  dell  him  to  be  gareful,  Mr. 
Lawson.  Any  excidemend,  any  zooden  drouble  mit 
anydings  ;  or  too  much  visky  midout  any  excidemends, 
and  he  drop  dead.     I  dell  you." 

«  •  •  •  • 

A  month  or  so  after  he  had  settled,  Etheridge  paid 
his  weekly  visit  to  Lawson,  and  met  Lalia. 

"  This  is  my  wife's  sister,"  said  Lawson  ;  "  she  has 
been  on  a  visit  to  some  friends  in  Tutuila,  and  came 
back  in  the  herhrookP 

The  clear-cut,  refined,  and  beautiful  features  of  the 


152       "  The  Best  Asset  in  a  FooFs  Estate'* 

girl  did  their  work  all  too  quickly  on  Etheridge.  He 
was  not  a  sensualist,  only  a  man  keenly  susceptible  to 
female  beauty,  and  this  girl  was  beautiful — perhaps  not 
so  beautiful  as  her  sister,  Terere,  Lawson's  wife,  but 
with  a  softer  and  more  tender  light  in  her  full,  dark 
eyes.  And  Lawson  smiled  to  himself  when  Etheridge 
asked  him  to  come  outside  and  smoke  when  his  wife 
and  her  sister  had  said  good-night.  A  student  of 
human  nature,  he  had  long  ago  read  the  simple  mind 
of  Etheridge  as  he  would  an  open  book,  and  knew 
what  was  coming.  They  went  outside  and  talked — 
that  is,  Etheridge  did.  Lawson  listened  and  smoked. 
Then  he  put  a  question  to  the  other  man. 

"  Or  course  I  will,  Lawson  ;  do  you  think  I'm 
scoundrel  enough  to  dream  of  anything  else  ?  We'll 
go  up  to  Apia  and  get  married  by  the  white 
missionary." 

Lawson  laughed  in  his  quiet  way.  "I  wouldn't 
think  you  a  scoundrel  at  all,  Etheridge.  I  may  as 
well  tell  you  that  I'm  not  married  to  her  sister.  We 
neglected  doing  that  when  I  lived  in  the  eastward 
groups,  and  no  one  in  Samoa  is  any  the  wiser,  and 
wouldn't  think  anything  of  it  if  they  were.  But 
although  I'm  only  a  poor  devil  of  a  trader,  I'm  a  man 
of  principle  in  some  things.  Lalia  is  but  a  child,  so 
to  speak,  and  I'm  her  natural  protector.  Now,  you're 
a  fellow  of  some  means,  and  if  anything  did  happen  to 
you  she  wouldn't  get  a  dollar  if  she  wasn't  legally  your 
wife.  The  consul  would  claim  everything  until  he 
heard  from  your  relatives.  And  she's  very  young, 
Etheridge,  and  you've  told  me  often  enough  that 
your  heart's  pretty  dicky.     Don't  think  nie  a  brute." 


*'  The  Best  Asset  in  a  FooPs  Estate."      153 

Etheridge  grasped  his  hand  and  wrung  it.  "  No, 
no — a  thousand  times  no.  You're  the  best-hearted 
fellow  in  the  world,  and  I  honour  you  all  the  more, 
Lawson.     Will  you  ask  her  to-morrow  ?  " 

Perhaps  if  he  had  heard  the  manner  of  Lawson's 
asking  it  would  have  puzzled  his  simple  brain.  And 
the  subdued  merriment  of  the  two  sisters  might  have 
caused  him  to  wonder  still  more. 

A  week  or  so  after,  Etheridge  and  the  two  sisters 
went  up  to  Apia.  Lawson  was  unable  to  go.  Copra 
was  coming  in  freely,  he  had  said  with  a  smile,  and  he 
was  too  poor  to  run  away  from  business — even  to  the 
wedding  of  his  own  wife's  sister. 

As  Etheridge  and  his  young  wife  came  out  of  the 
mission  church  some  natives  and  white  loafers  stood 
around  and  watched  them. 

"  Ho,  Magalo,"  said  one,  "  is  not  that  teine^  the 
sister  of  the  wife  of  Matda'ttu^  the  black-visaged 
■papalagi?''^ 

"  Aye,"  answered  a  skinny  old  hag,  carrying  a 
basket  of  water-bottles,  "'tis  she,  and  the  other  is 
Terere.  I  lived  with  them  once  at  Tutuila.  She 
who  is  now  made  a  wife  and  looketh  so  good  and  holy 
went  away  but  a  year  ago  with  the  captain  of  a  ship — 
a  pig  of  a  German — and  now,  look  you,  she  marrieth 
an  Englishman." 

The  other  natives  laughed,  and  then  an  ugly  fat- 
faced  girl  with  lime-covered  head  and  painted  cheeks 
called  out  "  Papatetele  !  "  and  Terere  turned  round 
and  cursed  them  in  good  English. 

"  What  does  that  mean  ? "  said  a  white  man  to 
Flash  Harry  from  Saleimoa — a  man  full  of  island  lore. 


154      "  'T^^  ^^^t  Asset  in  a  FooPs  Estate.'' 

"  Why,  it  means  as  the  bride  isn't  all  as  she  purfesses 
to  be.  Them  pretty  soft-lookin'  ones  like  her  seldom 
is,  in  Samoa  or  anywhere  else." 

The  day  following  the  stock-taking  Etheridge  went 
to  Apia — and  never  came  back. 

One  night  a  native  tapped  gently  at  Lawson's 
window  and  handed  him  a  note.  As  he  read  Terere 
with  a  sleepy  yawn  awoke,  and,  stretching  one  rounded 
arm  out  at  full  length,  let  it  fall  lazily  on  the  mat-bed. 

"What  is  it,  Harry?" 

*'  Get  up,  d you  !     Etheridge  is  dead,  and  I'm 

going  to  take  LaHa  up  to  Apia  as  quick  as  I  can. 
Why  the  h couldn't  he  die  here  ?  " 

A  rapid  vision  of  unlimited  presents  from  the  rich 
young  widow  passed  through  the  mind  of  Terere — to 
whom  the  relations  that  had  formerly  existed  between 
her  and  Lawson  were  well  known — as  she  and  he  sped 
along  in  his  boat  to  Etheridge's.  Lalia  received  the 
news  with  much  equanimity  and  a  few  tears,  and  then 
leaving  Terere  in  charge,  she  got  into  the  boat  and 
rolled  a  cigarette.  Lawson  was  in  feverish  haste.  He 
was  afraid  the  consul  would  be  down  and  baulk  his 
rapid  but  carefully  arranged  scheme.  At  Safune  he 
sent  his  crew  of  two  men  ashore  to  his  house  for 
a  breaker  of  water,  and  then  once  they  were  out  of 
sight  he  pushed  off  and  left  them.  They  were  in  the 
way  and  might  spoil  everything.  The  breeze  was 
strong,  and  that  night  Lawson  and  Lalia,  instead  of 
being  out  in  the  open  sea  beating  up  to  Apia,  were 
ashore  in  the  sitting-room  of  the  white  missionary 
house  on  the  other  side  of  Savaii. 


"  The  Best  Asset  in  a  FooPs  Estate."       155 

"  I  am  indeed  glad  to  make  your  acquaintance,  Mr. 
Lawson.  Your  honourable  impulse  deserves  com- 
mendation. I  have  alvv^ays  regretted  the  fact  that  a 
man  like  you  whose  reputation  as  an  educated  and 
intelligent  person  far  above  that  of  most  traders  here 
is  not  unknow^n  to  me  " — Lavv^son  smiled  sweetly — 
"  should  not  alone  set  at  defiance  the  teaching  of  Holy 
Writ,  but  tacitly  mock  at  our  efforts  to  inculcate  a 
higher  code  of  morality  in  these  beautiful  islands.  Ere 
long  I  trust  I  may  make  the  acquaintance  of  your 
brother-in-law,  Mr.  Etheridge,  and  his  wife." 

Lawson  smiled  affably,  and  a  slight  tinge  suffused 
the  creamy  cheek  of  Lalia. 

*'  And  now,  Mr.  Lawson,  as  you  are  so  very  anxious 
to  get  back  home  I  will  not  delay.  Here  are  my  wife 
and  my  native  assistant  as  witnesses.  Stand  up, 
please." 

"  Get  in,  you  little  beast,"  said  Lawson,  as  he 
bundled  Lalia  into  the  boat  and  started  back  home, 
"and  don't  fall  overboard.  I  don't  want  to  lose  the 
Best  Asset  in  that  Fool's  Estate." 


When  the  consul,  a  week  later,  came  down  to  take 
possession  of  Etheridge's  "  estate,"  he  called  in  at 
Safune  to  ask  Lawson  to  come  and  help  him  to  take 
an  inventory.  Terere  met  him  with  a  languid  smile, 
and,  too  lazy  perhaps  to  speak  English,  answered  his 
questions  in  Samoan. 

"  He's  married  and  gone,"  she  said. 

"  Married  ?  Aren't  you  Mrs.  Lawson  ?  "  said  the 
bewildered  consul,  in  English. 


156      "  T'he  Best  Asset  in  a  FooPs  Estate." 

"  Not  now,  sir  ;  my  sister  is.  Will  you  takeme  to 
Apia  in  your  boat,  please  ?  " 

•  •  •  •  • 

And  that  is  how  Lawson,  the  papalagi  mativa  (poor 
white)  and  "the  best-hearted  fellow  in  the  world," 
became  a  mau  aha — a  man  of  riches,  and  went,  with 
the  Best  Asset  in  Etheridge's  estate,  the  calm-eyed 
Lalia,  to  start  a  hotel  in — well,  no  matter  where. 


DESCHARD  OF  ONEAKA 


Deschard  of  Oneaka, 
I. 

Among  the  Gilbert  Group — that  chain  of  low-lying 
sandy  atolls  annexed  by  the  British  Government  two 
years  ago — there  is  one  island  that  may  be  said  to  be 
both  fertile  and  beautiful ;  yet  for  all  this  Kuria — for 
so  it  is  called  by  the  natives  of  the  group  generally — 
has  remained  almost  uninhabited  for  the  past  forty 
years.  Together  with  the  lagoon  island  of  Aranuka, 
from  which  it  is  distant  about  six  miles,  it  belongs  to 
the  present  King  of  Apamama,  a  large  and  densely 
populated  atoll  situated  half  a  degree  to  the  eastward. 
Thirty  years  ago,  however,  the  grandfather  of  the  lad 
who  is  now  the  nominal  ruler  of  Apamama  had  cause 
to  quarrel  with  the  Kurians,  and  settled  the  dispute 
by  invading  their  island  and  utterly  destroying  them, 
root  and  branch.  To-day  it  is  tenanted  only  by  the 
young  king's  slaves. 

Of  all  the  many  groups  and  archipelagoes  that  stud 
the  North  and  South  Pacific  from  the  rocky,  jungle- 
covered  Bonins  to  Juan  Fernandez,  the  islands  of  the 
Gilbert  Group  are — save  for  this  Kuria — the  most 
uninviting  and  monotonous  in  appearance.     They  are 


i6o  Deschard  of  Oneaka. 

for  the  most  part  but  narrow  strips  of  sandy  soil, 
densely  clothed,  it  is  true,  with  countless  thousands 
of  stately  cocoanut  palms  varied  with  groves  of  pan- 
danus  and  occasional  patches  of  stunted  scrub,  but 
flat  and  unpleasing  to  the  eye.  Seldom  exceeding 
two  miles  in  width  —  although,  as  is  the  case  at 
Drummond's  Island,  or  Taputeouea,  they  sometimes 
reach  forty  in  the  length  of  their  sweeping  curve — 
but  few  present  a  continuous  and  unbroken  stretch  of 
land,  for  the  greater  number  consist  of  perhaps  two 
or  three  score  of  small  islands,  divided  only  by  narrow 
and  shallow  channels,  through  which  at  high  water 
the  tide  sweeps  in  from  the  ocean  to  the  calm  waters 
of  the  lagoons  with  amazing  velocity.  These  strips 
of  land,  whether  broken  or  continuous,  form  the 
eastern  or  windward  boundaries  of  the  lagoons  ;  on 
the  western  or  lee  side  lie  barrier  reefs,  between  whose 
jagged  coral  walls  there  are,  at  intervals  widely  apart, 
passages  sufficiently  deep  for  a  thousand-ton  ship  to 
pass  through  in  safety,  and  anchor  in  the  transparent 
depths  of  the  lagoon  within  its  protecting  arms. 

Years  ago,  in  the  days  when  the  whaleships  from 
Nantucket,  and  Salem,  and  Martha's  Vineyard,  and 
New  Bedford  cruised  northward  towards  the  cold 
seas  of  Japan  and  Tchantar  Bay,  and  the  smoky  glare 
of  their  tryworks  lit  up  the  ocean  at  night,  the 
Gilberts  were  a  wild  place,  and  many  a  murderous 
scene  was  enacted  on  white  beach  and  shady  palm 
grove.  Time  after  time  some  whaler,  lying  to  in 
fancied  security  outside  the  passage  of  a  lagoon,  with 
half  her  crew  ashore  intoxicated  with  sour  toddy,  and 
the  other  half  on  board  unsuspicious  of  danger,  would 


Deschard  of  Oneaka.  i6i 

be  attacked  by  the  ferocious  brown  people.  Swim- 
ming off  at  night-time,  with  knives  held  between 
their  teeth,  a  desperate  attempt  would  be  made  to  cut 
off  the  ship.  Sometimes  the  attempt  succeeded  ;  and 
then  canoe  after  canoe  would  put  out  from  the  shore, 
and  the  wild  people,  swarming  up  the  ship's  side, 
would  tramp  about  her  ensanguined  decks  and  into 
the  cabins  seeking  for  plunder  and  fiery  New  England 
rum.  Then,  after  she  had  been  gutted  of  everything 
of  value  to  her  captors,  as  the  last  canoe  pushed  off, 
smoke  and  then  flames  would  arise,  and  the  burning 
ship  would  drift  away  with  the  westerly  current,  and 
the  tragedy  of  her  fate,  save  to  the  natives  of  the 
island,  and  perhaps  some  renegade  white  man  who 
had  stirred  them  to  the  deed,  would  never  be  known. 

In  those  days — long  ere  the  advent  of  the  first 
missionary  to  the  isolated  equatorial  atolls  of  Polynesia 
and  Melanesia — there  were  many  white  men  scattered 
throughout  the  various  islands  of  the  Ellice,  Gilbert, 
and  Marshall  groups.  Men,  these,  with  a  past  that  they 
cared  not  to  speak  of  to  the  few  strangers  they  might 
chance  to  meet  in  their  savage  retreats.  Many  were 
escaped  convicts  from  Van  Diemen's  Land  and  New 
South  Wales,  living,  not  in  dread  of  their  wild  native 
associates,  but  in  secret  terror  of  recapture  by  a  man- 
of-war  and  a  return  to  the  horrors  of  that  dreadful 
past.  Casting  away  the  garb  of  civilisation  and 
tying  around  their  loins  the  air'iri  or  grass  girdle  of 
the  Gilbert  Islanders,  they  soon  became  in  appearance, 
manners,  language,  and  thoughts  pure  natives.  For 
them  the  outside  world  meant  a  life  of  degradation, 
possibly  a  shameful  death.     And  as  the  years  went 

12 


1 62  Deschard  of  Oneaka. 

by  and  the  bitter  memories  of  the  black  days  of  old, 
resonant  with  the  clank  of  fetters  and  the  warder's 
harsh  cry,  became  dulled  and  faint,  so  died  away  that 
once  for-ever-haunting  fear  of  discovery  and  recap- 
ture. In  Teake,  the  bronzed,  half-naked  savage 
chief  of  Maiana,  or  Mesi,  the  desperate  leader  of  the 
natives  that  cut  ofF  the  barque  Jddie  Passmore  at 
Marakei,  the  identity  of  such  men  as  "  Nuggety " 
Jack  West  and  Macy  O'Shea,  once  of  Van  Diemen's 
Land  or  Norfolk  Island,  was  lost  for  ever. 


II. 

On  Kuria,  the  one  beautiful  island  of  the  Gilberts, 
there  lived  four  such  white  men  as  those  I  speak 
of.  Whence  they  came  they  alone  knew.  Two  of 
them — a  Portuguese  deserter  from  a  whaler  and  a  man 
named  Gorton — had  been  some  years  on  the  island 
when  they  were  joined  by  two  others  who  came  over 
from  Apamama  in  a  boat.  One  was  called  Tamu 
(Tom)  by  the  natives,  and  from  the  ease  with 
which  he  spoke  the  Gilbert  Island  dialect  and  his 
familiarity  with  native  customs,  he  had  plainly  lived 
many  years  among  the  natives  ;  the  other  was  a  tall, 
dark-skinned,  and  morose-looking  man  of  nearly  fifty. 
He  was  known  as  Hari  to  the  natives — once,  in  that 
outer  world  from  which  some  crime  had  dissevered 
him  for  ever,  he  was  Henry  Deschard. 

Although  not  familiar  with  either  the  language  or 
the  customs  of  the  ferocious  inhabitants  of  the  Gilbert 
Group,  it  was  soon  seen  by  the  ease  with  which  he 
acquired  both  that  Hari  had  spent  long  years  roaming 


T> esc  hard  of  Oneaka,  163 

about  the  islands  of  the  Pacific.  In  colour  he  was 
darker  than  the  Kurians  themselves  ;  in  his  love  of 
the  bloodshed  and  slaughter  that  so  often  ran  riot  in 
native  quarrels  he  surpassed  even  the  fiercest  native  j 
and  as  he  eagerly  espoused  the  cause  of  any  Kurian 
chief  who  sought  his  aid  he  rapidly  became  a  man  of 
note  on  the  island,  and  dreaded  by  the  natives  else- 
where in  the  group. 

There  were  then  over  a  thousand  people  living  on 
Kuria — or  rather,  on  Kuria  and  Oneaka,  for  the  island 
is  divided  by  one  of  those  narrow  channels  before 
mentioned  ;  and  at  Oneaka  Tamu  and  Deschard  lived, 
while  the  Portuguese  and  the  man  Gorton  had  long 
held  joint  sway  with  the  native  chief  of  Kuria. 

During  the  time  the  four  renegades  had  lived  on 
the  island  two  vessels  that  had  touched  there  had  had 
narrow  escapes  from  seizure  by  the  natives.  The 
first  of  these,  a  small  Hawaiian  whaling  brig,  was 
attacked  when  she  was  lying  becalmed  between  Kuria 
and  Aranuka.  A  breeze  springing  up,  she  escaped 
after  the  loss  of  a  boat's  crew,  who  were  entrapped  on 
the  latter  island.  In  this  affair  Deschard  and  Tamu 
had  taken  part ;  in  the  next — an  attempt  to  capture  a 
sandalwood! ng  barque  bound  to  China — he  was  leader, 
with  Gorton  as  his  associate.  The  sandalwooder, 
however,  carried  a  large  and  well-armed  crew,  and  the 
treacherous  surprise  so  elaborately  planned  came  to 
ignominious  failure.  Deschard  accused  his  fellow- 
beachcomber  of  cowardice  at  a  critical  moment.  The 
two  men  became  bitter  enemies,  and  for  years  never 
spoke  to  each  other. 


1 64  Deschard  of  Oneaka. 


III. 

But  one  afternoon  a  sail  was  sighted  standing  in 
for  the  island,  and  in  their  hateful  bond  of  villainy 
the  two  men  became  reconciled,  and  agreed  with 
Pedro  and  Tamu  and  some  hundreds  of  natives  to  try 
to  decoy  the  vessel  to  an  anchor  and  cut  her  off. 
The  beachcombers,  who  were  tired  of  living  on 
Kuria,  were  anxious  to  get  away  ;  the  natives  desired 
the  plunder  to  be  obtained  from  the  prize.  A  com- 
pact was  then  made  that  the  ship,  after  the  natives 
had  done  with  her,  was  not  to  be  burnt,  but  was  to 
be  handed  over  to  the  white  men,  who  were  to  lead 
the  enterprise. 

•  •  •  •  . 

Sailing  slowly  along  till  she  came  within  a  mile  of 
the  reef,  the  vessel  hove  to  and  lowered  a  boat.  She 
was  a  large  brigantine,  and  the  murderous  beings  who 
watched  her  from  the  shore  saw  with  cruel  pleasure 
that  she  did  not  appear  to  carry  a  large  crew. 

It  had  been  agreed  upon  that  Gorton,  who  had  special 
aptitude  for  such  work,  should  meet  the  boat  and 
endeavour  to  lure  the  crew  into  the  interior,  under 
the  promise  of  giving  them  a  quantity  of  fresh-water 
fish  from  the  artificial  ponds  belonging  to  the  chief, 
while  Deschard  and  the  other  two,  with  their  body  of 
native  allies,  should  remain  at  the  village  on  Oneaka, 
and  at  the  proper  moment  attack  the  ship. 

As  the  boat  drew  near,  the  officer  who  was  in 
charge  saw  that  although  there  were  numbers  of 
natives  clustered  together  on  the  beach,  the  greater 
portion  were  women  and  children.     He  had  with  him 


Deschard  of  Oneaka.  165 

five  men,  all  armed  with  muskets  and  cutlasses,  and 
although  extremely  anxious  to  avoid  a  collision,  he 
w^as  not  at  all  alarmed.  The  natives  meanwhile  pre- 
served a  passive  attitude,  and  when  the  men  in  the 
boat,  at  a  word  from  the  officer,  stopped  rowing, 
backed  her  in  stern  first,  and  then  lay  on  their  oars, 
they  nearly  all  sat  down  on  the  sand  and  waited  for 
him  to  speak. 

Standing  up  in  the  boat,  the  officer  hailed — 

"  Hallo  there,  ashore !  Any  white  men  living 
here  ?  " 

For  a  minute  or  so  there  was  no  answer,  and  the 
eyes  of  the  natives  turned  in  the  direction  of  one  of 
their  number  who  kept  well  in  the  background. 

Again  the  seaman  hailed,  and  then  a  man,  seem- 
ingly a  native,  stout  and  muscular,  with  hair  falling 
down  in  thick  masses  upon  his  reddish-brown 
shoulders,  walked  slowly  out  from  the  others,  and 
folding  his  brawny  arms  across  his  naked  chest,  he 
answered — 

"  Yes  ;  there's  some  white  men  here." 

The  officer,  who  was  the  mate  of  the  brigantine, 
then  spoke  for  a  iew  minutes  to  a  young  man  who 
pulled  bow  oar,  and  who  from  his  dress  was  not  one 
of  the  crew,  and  said  finally,  "  Well,  let  us  make  sure 
that  there  is  no  danger  first,  Maurice." 

The  young  man  nodded,  and  then  the  mate  ad- 
dressed the  seeming  native  again  : 

"  There's  a  young  fellow  here  wants  to  come 
ashore ;  he  wants  to  see  one  of  the  white  men  here. 
Can  he  come  ashore  ?  " 

"  Of  course  he  can.  D'ye  think  we're  a  lot  o' 
cannibals  here  ?     I'm  a  white  man  myself,"  and  he 


1 66  Ties  chard  of  Oneaka. 

laughed  coarsely  j  then  added  quickly,  "Who  does  he 
want  to  see  ?  " 

The  man  who  pulled  the  bow  oar  sprang  to  his 
feet. 

"  I  want  to  see  Henry  Deschard  I " 

"  Do  you  ?  "  was  the  sneering  response.  "  Well, 
I  don't  know  as  you  can.  This  isn't  his  day  at 
home,  like  j  besides  that,  he's  a  good  long  way  from 
here  just  now." 

"I've  got  good  news  for  him,"  urged  the  man 
called  Maurice. 

The  beachcomber  meditated  a  few  seconds  j  then 
he  walked  down  to  the  boat. 

"  Look  here,"  he  said,  "  I'm  telling  the  exac'  truth. 
Deschard's  place  is  a  long  way  from  here,  in  the  bush 
too,  so  you  can't  go  there  in  the  boat ;  but  look 
here,  why  can't  you  chaps  come  along  with  me  ?  I'll 
show  you  the  way,  and  you'll  have  a  good  look  at  the 
island.  There's  nothin'  to  be  afraid  of,  I  can  tell  you. 
Why,  these  natives  is  that  scared  of  all  them  guns 
there  that  you  won't  see  'em  for  dust  when  you  come 
with  me ;  an'  the  chief  says  as  you  chaps  can  drag  one 
of  his  fish-ponds." 

The  mate  was  tempted  ;  but  his  orders  were  to 
allow  only  the  man  Maurice  to  land,  and  to  make 
haste  back  as  soon  as  his  mission  was  accomplished. 
Shaking  his  head  to  the  renegade's  wily  suggestion, 
he,  however,  told  Maurice  that  he  could  go  and  en- 
deavour to  communicate  with  Deschard.  In  the 
meantime  he  would  return  to  the  ship,  and  tell  the 
captain — "and  the  other"  (these  last  words  with 
a  look  full  of  meaning  at  the  young  man)  that  every- 
thing was  going  on  all  right. 


Deschard  of  Oneaka.  i6j 

Foiled  in  his  plan  of  inducing  all  the  men  to  come 
ashore,  Gorton  assumed  a  careless  manner,  and  told 
Maurice  that  he  was  still  willing  to  conduct  him 
to  Deschard,  but  that  he  would  not  be  able  to 
return  to  the  ship  that  night,  as  the  distance  was  too 
,  great. 

The  mate  was  agreeable  to  this,  and  bidding  the 
beachcomber  and  his  victim  good-day  he  returned  to 
the  ship. 

Holding  the  young  man's  hand  in  his,  the  burly 
renegade  passed  through  the  crowd  of  silent  natives, 
and  spoke  to  them  in  their  own  tongue. 

"  Hide  well  thy  spears  and  clubs,  my  children  j  'tis 
not  yet  time  to  act." 

Still  clasping  the  hand  of  his  companion,  he  led  the 
way  through  the  native  town,  and  then  into  the 
narrow  bush  track  that  led  to  Oneaka,  and  in  another 
five  minutes  they  were  alone,  or  apparently  so,  for 
nought  could  be  heard  in  the  fast  gathering  darkness 
but  their  own  footsteps  as  they  trod  the  leafy  path,  and 
the  sound  of  the  breaching  surf  long  miles  away. 

Suddenly  the  beachcomber  stopped,  and  in  a  harsh 
voice  said — 

"  What  is  the  good  news  for  Deschard  ?  " 

"  That  I  cannot  tell  you,"  answered  the  stripling, 
firmly,  though  the  grim  visage,  tattooed  body,  and 
now  threatening  aspect  of  his  questioner  might  well 
have  intimidated  even  a  bolder  man,  and  instinctively 
he  thrust  his  hand  into  the  bosom  of  his  shirt  and 
grasped  a  letter  he  carried  there. 

"Then  neither  shall  Deschard  know  it,"  said  the 
man  savagely,  and  throwing  himself  upon  the  young 
man   he   bore   him   to  the   ground,  while  shadowy. 


1 68  Deschard  of  Oneaka, 

naked  figures  glided  out  from  the  blackness  of  the 
forest  and  bound  and  gagged  him  without  a  sound. 
Then  carrying  him  away  from  the  path  the  natives 
placed  him,  without  roughness,  under  the  shelter  of 
an  empty  house,  and  then  left  him. 

The  agony  of  mind  endured  by  the  helpless  prisoner 
may  be  imagined  when,  unable  to  speak  or  move,  he 
saw  the  beachcomber  and  his  savage  followers  vanish 
into  the  darkness  j  for  the  letter  which  he  carried 
had  been  written  only  a  few  hours  before  by  the 
wife  of  the  man  Deschard,  telling  him  of  her  loving 
quest,  and  of  her  and  her  children's  presence  on  board 
the  brigantine. 

IV. 

At  daylight  next  morning  some  native  women, 
passing  by  the  deserted  house  on  their  way  to  work 
in  the  puraka  plantations  of  Oneaka,  saw  the  figure 
of  the  messenger  lying  dead.  One  of  the  women, 
named  Niapo,  in  placing  her  hand  upon  his  bosom 
to  feel  if  he  yet  breathed,  found  the  letter  which  had 
cost  him  his  life.  For  nearly  twenty  years  she  kept 
possession  of  it,  doubtless  from  some  superstitious 
motive,  and  then  it  was  bought  from  her  by  a  white 
trader  from  Apamama,  named  Randall,  by  whom  it 
was  sent  to  the  Rev.  Mr.  Damon,  the  *' Sailors' 
Friend,"  a  well-known  missionary  in  Honolulu. 
This  was  the  letter  : — 

My  Dear  Husband, — It  is  nearly  three  years 
since  I  got  your  letter,  but  I  dared  not  risk  writing 
to  you,  even  if  I  had  known  of  a  ship  leaving  for  the 
South    Seas    or    the   whale    fishery.     None   of    the 


Deschard  of  One  aha.  169 

sandalwooding  people  in  Sydney  seemed  even  to 
know  the  name  of  this  island  (Courier  ?).  My  dear 
husband,  I  have  enough  money  now,  thank  God,  to 
end  all  our  troubles.  Your  letter  was  brought  to  me  at 
Parramatta  by  a  sailor — an  American,  I  think.  He 
gave  it  first  to  Maurice.  I  would  have  rewarded  him, 
but  before  I  could  speak  to  him  he  had  gone.  For 
ten  years  I  have  waited  and  prayed  to  God  to  bring 
us  together  again.     We  came  to  Sydney  in  the  same 

ship  as  Major  D ,  of  the  77th.     He  has  always 

been  so  good  to  us,  and  so  has  his  wife.  Nell  is 
sixteen  now,  Laura  eighteen.  God  grant  that  I  will 
see  you  in  a  few  hours.  The  captain  says  that  he 
will  land  us  all  at  one  of  the  places  in  the  Dutch 
East  Indies.  I  have  paid  him  £100^  and  am  to  pay 
him  £100  when  you  are  safely  on    board.     I   have 

been  so  miserable  for  the  past  year,  as  Major  D 

had  heard  that  a  man-of-war  was  searching  the  islands, 
and  I  was  in  such  terrible  fear  that  we  would  never 
meet  again.  Come  quickly,  and  God  bless  you,  my 
dear  husband.  Maurice  insisted  and  begged  to  be 
allowed  to  take  this  to  you.  He  is  nineteen  years 
old  now,  but  will  not  live  long — has  been  a  faithful 
and  good  lad.  Laura  is  eighteen,  and  Nell  nearly 
sixteen  now.  We  are  now  close  to  Courier,^  and 
should  see  you  ere  long. — Your  loving  and  now 
joyful  wife, — Anna  Deschard. 

•  •  •  •  •      • 

In  the  big  maniapa^  or  council  house,  on  Oneaka, 
two  hundred  armed  and  naked  savages  were  sitting 
awaiting  the  arrival  of  Corton  and  his  warriors  from 

*  The  native  pronunciation  of  Kuria  is  like  "  Courier." — ^L.B. 


170  Deschard  of  Oneaka. 

Kuria.  A  little  apart  from  the  muttering,  excited 
natives,  and  seated  together,  were  the  man  Deschard 
and  the  two  other  beachcombers,  Pedro  and  Tamu. 

As  Gorton  and  his  men  filed  across  the  gravelled 
pathway  that  led  to  the  maniapa^  Deschard,  followed 
by  the  two  other  white  men,  at  once  came  out,  and 
the  former,  with  a  fierce  curse,  demanded  of  Gorton 
what  had  kept  him. 

"  Gouldn't  manage  to  get  them  ashore,"  answered 
the  other,  sulkily.  Then  he  proceeded  to  impart  the 
information  he  had  gained  as  to  the  ship,  her  crew, 
and  armament. 

"  Nine  men  and  one  native  boy  !  "  said  Deschard, 
contemptuously.  He  was  a  tall,  lean-looking,  black- 
bearded  man,  with  even  a  more  terrifying  and  savage 
appearance  than  any  of  his  ruffianly  partners  in 
crime,  tattooed  as  he  was  from  the  back  of  his  neck 
to  his  heels  in  broad,  perpendicular  lines.  As  he  fixed 
his  keen  eyes  upon  the  countenance  of  Gorton  his 
white  teeth  showed  in  a  cruel  smile  through  his 
tangled,  unkempt  moustache. 

Galling  out  the  leading  chiefs  of  the  cutting-out 
party,  the  four  desperadoes  consulted  with  them  upon 
their  plan  of  action  for  the  attack  upon  the  brigantine, 
and  then  arranged  for  each  man's  work  and  share  o 
the  plunder.  The  white  men  were  to  have  the  ship, 
but  everything  that  was  of  value  to  the  natives  and 
not  necessary  to  the  working  of  the  ship  was  to  be 
given  to  the  natives.  The  muskets,  powder,  and  ball 
were  to  be  evenly  divided  between  the  whites  and 
their  allies. 

Six  of  the  native  chiefs  then  swore  by  the  names 
of  their   deified   ancestors    to   feithfully   observe  the 


Deschard  of  Oneaka.  171 

murderous  compact.  After  the  ship  was  taken  they 
were  to  help  the  white  men  if  the  ship  had  anchored 
to  get  her  under  way  again. 

It  was  the  intention  of  Deschard  and  his  mates  to 
make  for  the  East  Indies,  where  they  would  have  no 
trouble  in  selling  the  ship  to  one  of  the  native  poten- 
tates of  that  archipelago. 

At  daylight  the  brigantine,  which  had  been  kept 
under  easy  sail  during  the  night,  was  seen  to  be  about 
four  miles  from  the  land,  and  standing  in.  Shortly 
after,  two  or  three  canoes,  with  only  a  few  men  in 
each,  put  ofF  from  the  beach  at  Oneaka  and  paddled 
out  leisurely  towards  the  ship.  When  about  a  mile 
or  so  from  the  shore  they  ceased  paddling,  and  the 
captain  of  the  brigantine  saw  by  his  glass  that  they 
were  engaged  in  fishing. 

This  was  merely  a  device  to  inspire  confidence  in 
those  on  board  the  ship. 

In  another  hour  the  brigantine  passed  close  to  one 
of  the  canoes,  and  a  native,  well  tutored  by  past 
masters  in  the  art  of  treachery  in  the  part  he  had  to 
play,  stood  up  in  the  canoe  and  held  out  a  large  fish, 
and  in  broken  English  said  it  was  a  present  for  the 
captain. 

Pleased  at  such  a  friendly  overture,  the  captain 
put  the  helm  down  for  the  canoe  to  come  along- 
side. Handing  the  fish  up  over  the  side,  the  giver 
clambered  up  himself.  The  three  other  natives  in 
the  canoe  then  paddled  quietly  away  as  if  under  no 
alarm  for  the  safety  of  their  comrade,  and  resumed 
their  fishing. 

As  the  ship  drew  into  the  land  the  mate  called  the 


1/2  Deschard  of  Oneaka. 

captain's  attention  to  some  eight  or  ten  more  natives 
who  were  swimming  ofF  to  the  ship. 

"  No  danger  from  these  people,  sir,"  he  remarked  j 
"they  are  more  frightened  of  us  than  we  of  them, 
I  believe  j  and  then  look  at  the  women  and  girls 
fishing  on  the  reef.  When  the  women  come  out 
like  that,  fearless  and  open-like,  there  isn't  much  to 
be  afraid  of." 

One  by  one  the  natives  who  were  swimming 
reached  the  ship,  and  apparently  encouraged  by  the 
presence  of  the  man  who  had  boarded  the  ship  from 
the  fishing  canoe,  they  eagerly  clambered  up  on  deck, 
and  were  soon  on  the  most  friendly  terms  with  the 
crew,  especially  with  one  of  their  own  colour,  a 
half-caste  native  boy  from  the  island  of  Ambrym,  in 
the  New  Hebrides,  named  Maru. 

This  Maru  was  the  sole  survivor  of  the  awful 
tragedy  that  followed,  and  appeared  to  be  well  ac- 
quainted with  the  captain's  object  in  calling  at  Kuria 
— to  pick  up  the  man  named  Deschard.  More  than 
twenty  years  afterwards,  when  speaking  of  the  events 
here  narrated,  his  eyes  filled  with  tears  when  he  told 
of  the  "  white  lady  and  her  two  daughters  "  who  were 
passengers,  and  who  had  sat  on  the  poop  the  previous 
day  awaiting  the  return  of  the  mate's  boat,  and  for 
tidings  of  him  whom  they  had  come  so  far  to  find. 


V. 

The  timid  and  respectful  manner  of  the  islanders 
had  now  so  impressed  the  master  of  the  brigantine 
that  in  a  fatal  moment  he  decided  to  anchor.     Telling 


Des chard  of  Oneaka.  173 

the  mate  to  range  the  cable  and  clear  away  all  ready, 
he  descended  to  the  cabin  and  tapped  at  the  door  of  a 
state-room. 

"  I  am  going  to  anchor,  Mrs.  Deschard,  but  as 
there  are  a  lot  of  rather  curious-looking  natives  on 
board,  you  and  the  young  ladies  had  better  keep  to 
your  cabin." 

The  door  opened,  and  a  girl  of  seventeen  or  eigh- 
teen appeared,  and,  taking  the  captain's  hand,  she 
whispered — 

"  She  is  asleep,  captain.  She  kept  awake  till  day- 
light, hoping  that  my  father  would  come  in  the  night. 
Do  you  think  that  anything  has  happened  either  to 
him  or  Maurice  ?  " 

Maru,  the  Ambrym  cabin-boy,  said  that  the  captain 
"  patted  the  girl's  hand  "  and  told  her  to  have  no  fear 
— that  her  father  was  on  the  island  "  sure  enough," 
and  that  Maurice  would  return  with  him  by  breakfast 
time. 

The  brigantine  anchored  close  in  to  the  shore, 
between  Kuria  and  Oneaka,  and  in  a  few  minutes  the 
long  boat  was  lowered  to  proceed  on  shore  and  bring 
off  Maurice  and  Deschard.  Four  hands  got  into  her 
and  then  the  mate.  Just  as  he  was  about  to  cast  ofF, 
the  EngHsh-speaking  native  begged  the  captain  to 
allow  him  and  the  rest  of  his  countrymen  to  go  ashore 
in  the  boat.  Unsuspicious  of  treachery  from  unarmed 
natives,  the  captain  consented,  and  they  immediately 
slipped  over  the  side  into  the  boat. 

There  were  thus  but  four  white  men  left  on  board 
— the  captain,  second  mate,  two  A.B.'s — and  the  half- 
caste  boy  Maru.  Arms  and  ammunition,  sufficient  for 


174  Des chard  of  Oneaka. 

treble  the  crew  the  brigantine  carried,  were  on  board. 
In  those  days  the  humblest  merchant  brig  voyaging  to 
the  East  Indies  and  China  coast  carried,  in  addition 
to  small  arms,  either  two  or  four  guns  (generally 
6-pounders)  in  case  of  an  attack  by  pirates.  The  brigan- 
tine was  armed  with  two  6-pounders,  and  these,  so  the 
Ambrym  half-caste  said,  were  still  loaded  with  "  bags 
of  bullets  "  when  she  came  to  an  anchor.  Both  of  the 
guns  were  on  the  main  deck  amidships. 

Contrary  to  the  wishes  of  the  mate,  who  appeared 
to  have  the  most  unbounded  confidence  in  the  peace- 
ableness  of  the  natives,  the  captain  had  insisted  upon 
his  boat's  crew  taking  their  arms  with  them. 

No  sooner  had  the  boat  left  the  vessel  than  the 
EngHsh-speaking  native  desired  the  mate  to  pull 
round  to  the  east  side  of  Oneaka,  where,  he  said,  the 
principal  village  was  situated,  and  whither  Maurice 
had  gone  to  seek  Deschard.  It  must  be  remembered 
that  this  native  and  those  with  him  were  all  members 
of  Corton's  clientele  at  Kuria,  and  were  therefore  well 
aware  of  his  treachery  in  seizing  the  messenger  to 
Deschard,  and  that  Maurice  had  been  seized  and  bound 
the  previous  night. 

In  half  an  hour,  when  the  boat  was  hidden  from 
the  view  of  those  on  board  the  brigantine,  the  natives, 
who  outnumbered  the  whites  two  to  one,  at  a  signal 
from  their  leader  suddenly  threw  themselves  upon  the 
unsuspecting  seamen  who  were  rowing  and  threw 
every  one  of  them  overboard.  The  mate,  a  small, 
active  man,  managed  to  draw  a  heavy  horse  pistol 
from  his  belt,  but  ere  he  could  pull  the  trigger  he  was 
dealt  a  crushing  blow  with  a  musket  stock.     As  he 


Des chard  of  Oneaka,  175 

fell  a  native  thrust  him  through  and  through  with  one 
of  the  seamen's  cutlasses.  As  for  the  unfortunate  sea- 
men, they  were  killed  one  by  one  as  they  struggled  in 
the  water.  That  part  of  the  fell  work  accomplished, 
the  natives  pulled  the  boat  in  towards  Oneaka,  where 
some  ten  or  fifteen  large  native  double-ended  boats 
and  canoes,  all  filled  with  savages  lusting  for  blood 
and  rapine,  awaited  them. 

Deschard,  a  man  of  the  most  savage  courage,  was 
in  command  of  some  twenty  or  thirty  of  the  most 
noted  of  the  Oneaka  warriors  ;  and  on  learning  from 
Tebarian  (the  native  who  spoke  English  and  who  was 
Gorton's  brown  familiar)  that  the  two  guns  were  in 
the  waist  of  the  ship,  he  instructed  his  white  comrades 
to  follow  in  the  v/ake  of  his  boat,  and,  once  they  got 
alongside,  board  the  ship  wherever  their  fancy  dictated. 

There  was  a  muttered  E  rairai !  (Good  !)  of  ap- 
proval from  the  listening  natives,  and  then  in  perfect 
silence  and  intuitive  discipline  the  paddles  struck  the 
water,  and  the  boat  and  canoes,  with  their  naked, 
savage  crews,  sped  away  on  their  mission  of  death. 


VI. 


But,  long  before  they  imagined,  they  had  been 
discovered,  and  their  purpose  divined  from  the  ship. 
Maru,  the  keen-eyed  half-caste,  who  was  the  first  to 
notice  their  approach,  knew  from  the  manner  in  which 
the  canoes  kept  together  that  something  unusual  was 
about  to  occur,  and  instantly  called  the  captain.  Glass 
in  hand,  the  latter  ascended  the  main  rigging  for  a 
dozen    ratlins   or    so   and    looked   at   the    advancing 


176  Deschard  of  Oneaka. 

flotilla.  A  very  brief  glance  told  him  that  the  boy 
had  good  cause  for  alarm — the  natives  intended  to  cut 
off  the  ship,  and  the  captain,  whom  Maru  described 
as  "an  old  man  with  a  white  head,"  at  once  set  about 
to  make  such  a  defence  as  the  critical  state  of  affairs 
rendered  possible. 

Calling  his  men  to  him  and  giving  them  muskets, 
he  posted  two  of  them  on  top  of  the  deckhouse,  and 
with  the  remainder  of  his  poor  force  stationed  himself 
upon  the  poop.  With  a  faint  hope  that  they  might 
yet  be  intimidated  from  attacking,  he  fired  a  musket 
shot  in  the  direction  of  the  leading  boat.  No  notice 
was  taken  ;  so,  descending  to  the  main  deck  with  his 
men,  he  ran  out  one  of  the  6-pounders  and  fired  it. 
The  roar  of  the  heavily-charged  gun  was  answered  by 
a  shrill  yell  of  defiance  from  two  hundred  throats. 

"  Then,"  said  Maru,  "  the  captain  go  below  and  say 
good-bye  to  women  and  girls,  and  shut  and  lock  cabin 
door." 

Returning  to  the  deck,  the  brave  old  man  and  his 
second  mate  and  two  men  picked  up  their  muskets  and 
began  to  fire  at  the  black  mass  of  boats  and  men  that 
were  now  well  within  range.  As  they  fired,  the  boy 
Maru  loaded  spare  muskets  for  them  as  fast  as  his 
trembling  hands  would  permit. 

Once  only,  as  the  brigantine  swung  to  the  current, 
the  captain  brought  the  gun  on  the  port  side  to  bear 
on  them  again,  and  fired  ;  and  again  there  came  back 
the  same  appalling  yell  of  defiance,  for  the  shower  of 
bullets  only  made  a  wide  slat  of  foam  a  hundred  yards 
short  of  the  leading  boat. 

By  the  time  the  gun  was  reloaded  the  brigantine 
had  swung  round  head  to  shore  again  ;  and  then,  as  the 


Deschard  of  Oneaka.  I77 

despairing  but  courageous  seamen  were  trying  to  drag 
it  forward  again,  Deschard  and  his  savages  in  the  lead- 
ing boat  had  gained  the  ship,  and  the  wild  figure  of 
the  all  but  naked  beachcomber  sprang  on  deck,  fol- 
lowed by  his  own  crew  and  nearly  two  hundred  other 
fiends  well-nigh  as  bloodthirsty  and  cruel  as  himself. 
Some  two  or  three  of  them  had  been  killed  by  the 
musketry  fire  from  the  ship,  and  their  fellows  needed  no 
incentive  from  their  white  leaders  to  slay  and  spare  not. 

Abandoning  the  gun,  the  captain  and  his  three  men 
and  the  boy  Maru  succeeded  in  fighting  their  way 
through  Deschard's  savages  and  reaching  one  of  the 
cabin  doors,  which,  situated  under  the  break  of  the 
high  poop,  opened  to  the  main  deck.  Ere  they  could 
all  gain  the  shelter  of  the  cabin  and  secure  the  door 
the  second  mate  and  one  of  the  seamen  were  cut  down 
and  ruthlessly  slaughtered,  and  of  the  three  that  did, 
one — the  remaining  seaman — was  mortally  wounded 
and  dying  fast. 

Even  at  such  a  moment  as  this,  hardened  and 
merciless  as  were  their  natures  and  blood-stained  their 
past,  it  cannot  be  thought  that  had  Deschard  and  his 
co-pirates  known  that  white  women  were  on  board 
the  brigantine  they  would  have  perpetrated  their  last 
dreadful  deed.  In  his  recital  of  the  final  scene  in  the 
cabin  Maru  spoke  of  the  white  woman  and  the  two 
girls  coming  out  of  their  state-room  and  kneeling 
down  and  praying  with  their  arms  clasped  around  each 
other's  waists.  Surely  the  sound  of  their  dying  prayers 
could  never  have  been  heard  by  Deschard  when,  in 
the  native  tongue,  he  called  out  for  one  of  the  guns  to 
be  run  aft. 


13 


178  Des chard  of  Oneaka. 

"By and  by,"  said  Maru,  "woman  and  girl  come  to 
captain  and  sailor-man  Charlie  and  me  and  cry  and 
say  good-bye,  and  then  captain  he  pray  too.  Then 
he  get  up  and  take  cutlass,  and  sailor-man  Charlie  he 
take  cutlass  too,  but  he  too  weak  and  fall  down  ;  so 
captain  say,  *  Never  mind,  Charlie,  you  and  me  die 
now  like  men.' " 

Then,  cutlass  in  hand,  the  white-haired  old  skipper 
stood  over  the  kneeling  figures  of  the  three  women 
and  waited  for  the  end.  And  now  the  silence  was 
broken  by  a  rumbling  sound,  and  then  came  a  rush  of 
naked  feet  along  the  deck. 

"  It  is  the  gun,"  said  Maru  to  the  captain,  and  in 
an  agony  of  terror  he  lifted  up  the  hatch  of  the  laza- 
rette  under  the  cabin  table  and  jumped  below.  And 
then  Deschard's  voice  was  heard. 

"  Ta  mai  te  ae^'  (Give  me  the  fire). 

A  blinding  flash,  a  deafening  roar,  and  splintering 
and  crashing  of  timber  followed,  and  as  the  heavy 
pall  of  smoke  lifted,  Deschard  and  the  others  looked 
in  at  their  bloody  work,  shuddered,  and  turned  away. 

Pedro,  the  Portuguese,  his  dark  features  turned  to  a 
ghastly  pallor,  was  the  only  one  of  the  four  men  who 
had  courage  enough  to  assist  some  of  the  natives  in 
removing  from  the  cabin  the  bodies  of  the  three  poor 
creatures  who,  but  such  a  short  time  before,  were  full 
of  happiness  and  hope.  Deschard  and  the  three  others, 
after  that  one  shuddering  glance,  had  kept  away  from 
the  vicinity  of  the  shot-torn  cabin. 


Deschard  of  Oneaka.  179 


VII. 

The  conditions  of  the  cutting  off  of  the  brigantine 
were  faithfully  observed  by  the  contracting  parties, 
and  long  ere  night  fell  the  last  boatload  of  plunder  had 
been  taken  ashore.  Tebarau,  chief  of  Oneaka,  had 
with  his  warriors  helped  to  heave  up  anchor,  and  the 
vessel,  under  short  canvas,  was  already  a  mile  or  two 
away  from  the  land,  and  in  his  hiding-place  in  the 
gloomy  lazarette  the  half-caste  boy  heard  Gorton  and 
Deschard  laying  plans  for  the  future. 

Only  these  two  were  present  in  the  cabin  ;  Pedro 
was  at  the  wheel,  and  Tamu  somewhere  on  deck. 
Presently  Gorton  brought  out  the  dead  captain's 
despatch  box,  which  they  had  claimed  from  the 
natives,  and  the  two  began  to  examine  the  contents. 
There  was  a  considerable  ajnount  of  money  in  gold 
and  silver,  as  well  as  the  usual  ship's  papers,  &c. 
Gorton,  who  could  scarcely  read,  passed  these  over  to 
his  companion,  and  then  ran  his  fingers  gloatingly 
through  the  heap  of  money  before  him. 

With  a  hoarse,  choking  cry  and  horror-stricken 
eyes  Deschard  sprang  to  his  feet,  and  with  shaking 
hand  held  out  a  paper  to  Gorton. 

"  My  God  !  my  God  ! "  exclaimed  the  unhappy 
wretch,  and  sinking  down  again  he  buried  his  fece  in 
his  hands. 

Slowly  and  laboriously  his  fellow  ex-convict  read 
the  document  through  to  the  end.  It  was  an  agree- 
ment to  pay  the  captain  of  the  brigantine  the  sum  of 
one  hundred  pounds  sterling  provided  that  Henry 
Deschard    was    taken    on    board    the    brigantine    at 


l8o  Deschard  of  Oneaka. 

Woodle's  Island  (vno  name  Kuria  was  known  by  to 
whaleships  and  others),  the  said  sum  to  be  increased 
to  two  hundred  pounds  "  provided  that  Henry 
Deschard,  myself,  and  my  two  daughters  are  landed  at 
Batavia  or  any  other  East  India  port  within  sixty  days 
from  leaving  the  said  island,"  and  was  signed  Anna 
Deschard. 

Staggering  to  his  feet,  the  man  sought  in  the  ruined 
and  plundered  state-room  for  further  evidence.  Almost 
the  first  objects  that  he  saw  were  two  hanging  pockets 
made  of  duck — evidently  the  work  of  some  seaman — 
bearing  upon  them  the  names  of  "  Helen "  and 
"Laura." 

Peering  up  from  his  hiding-place  in  the  lazarette, 
where  he  had  lain  hidden  under  a  heap  of  old  jute 
bagging  and  other  debris,  Maru  saw  Deschard  return 
to  the  cabin  and  take  up  a  loaded  musket.  Sitting  in 
the  captain's  chair,  and  leaning  back,  he  placed  the 
muzzle  to  his  throat  and  touched  the  trigger  with  his 
naked  foot.  As  the  loud  report  rang  out,  and  the 
cabin  filled  with  smoke,  the  boy  crawled  from  his 
dark  retreat,  and,  stepping  over  the  prostrate  figure 
of  Deschard,  he  reached  the  deck  and  sprang  over- 
board. 

For  hours  the  boy  swam  through  the  darkness 
towards  the  land,  guided  by  the  lights  of  the  fires 
that  in  the  Gilbert  and  other  equatorial  islands  are 
kindled  at  night  -  time  on  every  beach.  He  was 
picked  up  by  a  fishing  party,  and  probably  on  account 
of  his  youth  and  exhausted  condition  his  life  was 
spared. 

That  night  as  he  lay  sleeping  under  a  mat  in  the 


Deschard  of  Oneaka.  i8l 

big  maniapa  on  Kuria  he  was  awakened  by  loud  cries, 
and  looking  seaward  he  saw  a  bright  glare  away  to 
the  westward. 

It  was  the  brigantine  on  fire. 

Launching  their  canoes,  the  natives  went  out  to 
her,  and  were  soon  close  enough  to  see  that  she  was 
burning  fiercely  from  for'ard  to  amidships,  and  that 
her  three  boats  were  all  on  board — two  hanging  to 
the  davits  and  one  on  the  deckhouse.  But  of  the 
four  beachcombers  there  was  no  sign. 

Knowing  well  that  no  other  ship  had  been  near  the 
island,  and  that  therefore  the  white  men  could  not 
have  escaped  by  that  means  without  being  seen  from 
the  shore,  the  natives,  surmising  that  they  were  in  a 
drunken  sleep,  called  loudly  to  them  to  awake  ;  but 
only  the  roaring  of  the  flames  broke  the  silence  of  the 
ocean.  Not  daring  to  go  nearer,  the  natives  remained 
in  the  vicinity  till  the  brigantine  was  nothing  but  a 
mastless,  glowing  mass  of  fire.  . 

Towards  midnight  she  sank  ;  and  the  last  of  the 
beachcombers  of  Kuria  sank  with  her. 


NELL  OF  MULLINER'S  CAMP 


Nell  of  Mulliners  Camp, 

Mulliner's  Camp,  on  the  Hodgkinson,  was  the 
most  hopeless-looking  spot  in  the  most  God-forsaken 
piece  of  country  in  North  Queensland,  and  Haughton, 
the  amalgamator  at  the  "  Big  Surprise "  crushing- 
mill,  as  he  turned  wearily  away  from  the  battery- 
tables  to  look  at  his  "  retorting  "  fire,  cursed  silently 
but  vigorously  at  his  folly  in  staying  there. 

It  was  Saturday  night,  and  the  deadly  melancholy 
of  Mulliner's  was,  if  possible,  somewhat  accentuated 
by  the  crash  and  rattle  of  the  played-out  old  five-head 
battery,  accompanied  by  the  wheezings  and  groanings 
of  its  notoriously  unreliable  pumping-gear.  Half  a 
mile  away  from  the  decrepid  old  battery,  and  situated 
on  the  summit  of  an  adder-infested  ironstone  ridge, 
the  dozen  or  so  of  bark  humpies  that  constituted 
Mulliner's  Camp  proper  stood  out  clearly  in  the  bright 
starlight  in  all  their  squat  ugliness.  From  the  extra 
display  of  light  that  shone  from  the  doorway  of  the 
largest  and  most  dilapidated-looking  of  the  huts, 
Haughton  knew  that  the  Cooktown  mailman  had 
come  in,  and  was  shouting  a  drink  for  the  landlord  of 
the  "  Booming  Nugget  "  before  eating  his  supper  of 
corned   beef  and   damper   and   riding  onward.     For 


1 86  Nell  of  Mu  I  liners  Camp. 

MulHner's  had  gone  to  the  bad  ^together  ;  even  the 
beef  that  the  mailman  was  eating  came  from  a  beast 
belonging  to  old  Channing,  of  Calypso.  Downs,  which 
had  fallen  down  a  shaft  the  previous  night.  Perhaps 
this  matter  of  a  fairly  steady  beef  supply  was  the 
silver  lining  to  the  black  cloud  of  misfortune  that  had 
so  long  enshrouded  the  spirits  of  the  few  remaining 
diggers  that  still  clung  tenaciously  to  the  dufFered-out 
mining  camp,  for  whenever  MulHner's  ran  out  of 
meat  a  beast  of  Channing's  would  always — by  some 
mysterious  dispensation  of  a  kindly  goldfield's  Provi- 
dence— fall  down  a  shaft  and  suffer  mortal  injuries. 

Just  at  the  present  moment  Haughton,  as  he  threw 
a  log  or  two  into  the  retort  furnace  and  watched  the 
shower  of  sparks  fly  high  up  over  the  battery  roof, 
was  thinking  of  old  Channing's  daughter  Kate,  and 
the  curious  state  of  affairs  existing  between  her  and 
his  partner  Ballantyne.  Briefly  stated,  this  is  what 
had  occurred — that  is,  as  far  as  Haughton  knew. 

Twelve  months  before,  Mrs.  Channing,  a  meek- 
faced,  religious-minded  lady,  had  succumbed  to  the 
worries  of  life  under  the  combined  and  prostrating 
influences  of  a  galvanised  iron  roof,  an  independent 
Chinaman  cook,  and  a  small  powerful  theological 
library.  Immediately  after  her  death,  old  Channing 
at  once  wrote  to  his  daughter,  then  at  school  in 
Sydney,  to  come  back  **and  cheer  up  his  lonely 
life." 

"  Poor  dad,"  said  Kate,  "  I  suppose  he  means  for  me 
to  continue  poor  mother's  feeble  remonstrances  to 
Chow  Kum  about  giving  away  so  much  rations  to  the 


Nell  of  Mul liner  s  Camp.  1 87 

station  gins,  and  to  lend  a  hand  when  we  muster  for 
branding." 

However,  being  a  dutiful  girl,  she  packed  up  and 
went. 

On  board  the  steamer  she  had  met  Ballantyne,  who 
was  returning  to  Queensland  to  resume  his  mining 
pursuits  in  the  Palmer  District.  He  knew  old 
Channing  well  by  reputation  as  a  wealthy  but 
eccentric  old  squatter,  and  in  a  few  days  he  managed 
to  make  the  girl  fall  violently  in  love  with  him.  The 
day  that  the  steamer  reached  Brisbane  a  telegram  was 
brought  on  board  for  Miss  Channing.  It  was  from 
her  father,  telling  her  that  Mrs.  Lankey,  of  Mount 
Brindlebul,  was  coming  up  from  Sydney  in  another 
week,  and  she  was  to  wait  in  Brisbane  for  her.  Then 
they  were  to  travel  northward  together. 

If  there  was  one  woman  in  the  world  she  hated  it 
was  Mrs.  Lankey,  of  Mount  Brindlebul  station,  in 
the  Gulf  country,  and  Ballantyne,  from  whom  she 
could  hide  nothing,  saw  his  opportunity,  and  took  it. 
He  took  her  ashore,  placed  her  in  lodgings,  went  to 
an  hotel  himself,  and  the  day  before  her  future  escort 
arrived,  married  her. 

Perfectly  satisfied  with  the  cogent  reasons  he  gave 
for  secrecy  in  not  apprising  her  father  of  their 
marriage,  and  shedding  tears  at  the  nonchalant  manner 
in  which  he  alluded  to  a  honeymoon  "some  time  in  a 
year  or  so  when  the  old  man  comes  to  know  of  it," 
pretty  Kate  Channing  went  back  alone  to  her 
lodgings  to  await  Airs.  Lankey  and  cogitate  upon  the 
peculiarly  masterful  way  in  which  Ballantyne  had 
wooed  and  won  her. 


1 88  Nell  of  Mulliners  Camp. 

Six  months  afterwards  she  got  a  letter  from  Ballan- 
tyne,  telling  her  that  he  had  bought  Petermann's 
crushing  mill  at  Mulliner's  Camp,  "  so  as  to  be  near 
you,  my  pet,"  he  said.  At  the  same  time  he  warned 
her  of  the  folly  of  their  attempting  to  meet,  at  least 
openly  j  but  added  that  Haughton,  his  partner,  who 
knew  of  his  marriage,  would  visit  Calypso  Downs 
occasionally  and  give  her  news  of  him  j  also  that  they 
could  correspond  by  the  same  medium. 

Thus  matters  stood  between  them  for  some  months, 
till  Kate,  wearying  to  meet  the  cold,  calculating 
Ballantyne,  adopted  the  device  of  riding  over  late 
every  Sunday  afternoon  to  Mulliner's  for  the  mail, 
instead  of  her  father  sending  over  one  of  his  black 
boys. 

But  instead  of  meeting  her  with  kisses,  Ballantyne 
terrified  her  with  savage  reproaches.  It  was  madness, 
he  said,  for  her  to  run  such  a  risk.  By  and  by  he 
would  be  in  a  better  position  ;  at  present  he  was  as 
poor  as  a  rat,  and  it  was  best  for  them  to  be  apart. 
And  Kate,  thoroughly  believing  in  him,  bent  to  his 
will.  She  knew  that  her  father  was,  as  Ballantyne 
thoughtfully  observed,  such  a  violent-tempered  old 
man  that  he  would  cast  her  off  utterly  unless  he  was 
"  managed  "  properly  when  he  learnt  of  her  marriage. 

"  And  don't  come  down  this  way  from  Mulliner's," 
added  the  careful  Ballantyne.  "  There's  an  old  mail 
tin,  about  a  mile  or  so  away  from  here,  near  the 
worked-out  alluvial  patch.  You  can  always  drop  a 
letter  in  there  for  me.  Haughton's  such  a  good- 
natured  ass  that  he'll  play  Mercury  for  you.  Anyway, 
I'll  send  him  to  look  in  the  tin  every  Sunday 
night." 


Nell  of  Mul liner  s  Camp.  189 

That,  so  far,  was  the  history  of  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Ballantyne. 

"Another  duffing  crushing,"  muttered  Haughton, 
as  he  stooped  and  placed  his  hand  into  the  bucket  of 
quicksilver  under  the  nozzle  of  the  retort  pipe.  "What 
between  a  reef  that  doesn't  pan  out  five  pennyweights 
to  the  ton,  and  a  woman  that  pans  out  too  rich,  I'm 
sick  of  the  cursed  place." 

As  he  stood  up  again,  and,  hands  on  his  hips,  looked 
moodily  into  the  fire,  a  woman  came  down  the  rough 
path  leading  from  Ballantyne's  house  to  the  battery. 
Walking  quickly  across  the  lighted  space  that  inter- 
vened between  the  blacksmith's  forge  and  the  fire,  she 
placed  a  billy  of  tea  on  the  brick  furnace-wall,  and 
then  turned  her  handsome  black-browed,  gipsy-like 
face  up  to  his.  This  was  Nell  Lawson,  the  woman 
who  had  "  panned  out  too  rich." 

"  Here's  your  tea,  Dick,"  she  said. 

"  Thanks,"  he  said,  taking  it  from  her,  and  then 
with  a  quick  look  over  towards  the  battery,  "  I  wish 
you  wouldn't  call  me  *  Dick  '  when  any  of  the  hands 
are  about ;  Lawson  might  hear  of  it,  and  I  don't  want 
you  to  get  into  any  trouble  over  me." 

The  black  eyes  sparkled,  and  the  smooth  olive-hued 
features  flushed  darkly  in  the  firelight  as  she  grasped 
his  arm. 

"  You  lie  !  "  and  she  set  her  teeth.  "  A  lot  you 
care  !  Do  you  think  I'm  a  silly  ?  Do  you  think  as 
I  don't  know  that  you  want  to  sling  me  and  don't 
know  how  to  go  about  it  ? "  and  she  grasped  his  arm 
savagely. 

Haughton  looked  at  her  in  gloomy  silence  for  a  few 


190  Nell  of  Mul liner  s  Camp, 

seconds.  Standing  there,  face  to  face,  they  looked  so 
alike  in  features — he  wiry,  muscular,  black-bearded, 
and  bronzed  to  the  hue  of  an  Arab,  and  she  tall,  dark- 
haired,  with  oval,  passionate  face — they  might  have 
been  taken  for  brother  and  sister. 

She  let  his  arm  free,  and  then,  being  only  a  work- 
ing miner's  wife,  and  possessing  no  handkerchief, 
whipped  her  apron  to  her  eyes. 

"  You're  a  damned  cur  !  "  she  said,  chokingly.  "  If 
it  hadn't  ha'  been  for  you  I'd  ha'  gone  along  all  right 
wi'  Bob,  and  put  up  wi'  livin'  in  this  place ;  an' 
now " 

"  Look  here,  Nell,"  said  Haughton,  drawing  her 
away  into  the  shadow  of  the  forge,  "  I'm  a  cur,  as 
you  say ;  but  I'd  be  a  worse  cur  to  keep  on  this  way. 
You  can't  marry  me,  can  you  ?  " 

"  You  used  to  talk  about  our  boltin' — once^^  and  she 
snapped  out  the  last  word. 

Haughton  tried  to  explain  why  the  "  bolting "  so 
trenchantly  referred  to  did  not  eventuate.  He  was 
stone-broke.  Ballantyne  was  going  to  do  his  own 
amalgamating  at  the  battery,  and  it  would  be  cruel  of 
him  to  ask  her  to  share  his  fortunes.  (Here  he  began 
to  appreciate  his  leaning  to  morality.)  If  she  was  a 
single  girl  he  would  stay  at  Mulliner's  and  fight  it  out 
with  bad  luck  for  her  sake  ;  but  they  couldn't  go  on 
like  this  any  more.  And  the  people  at  Mulliner's 
were  beginning  to  talk  about  them,  &c.,  &c. 

She  heard  him  in  silence,  and  then  gave  a  short, 
jarring  laugh — the  laugh  that  ought  to  tell  a  man  that 
he  is  no  longer  believed  in — by  a  woman  who  has 
loved  him. 

"  I  know,"  she  said,  quietly,  "  you  want  to  get  clear 


Nell  of  Mulliner's  Camp.  1 9 1 

o'  me.  You're  took  up  with  Kate  Channing,  the 
proper  Miss  Channing  that  rides  over  here  o'  Sundays 
to  meet  you  on  the  sly." 

At  first  he  meant  to  undeceive  her,  then  he  thought, 
"  What  does  it  matter  ?  I'll  be  av^^ay  from  here  in  a 
day  or  so,  and  after  I've  gone  she'll  find  I'm  not  so 
base  as  she  thought  me,  poor  girl ;  "  so,  looking  away 
from  her  so  as  to  avoid  the  dangerous  light  that 
gleamed  in  her  passionate  eyes,  he  made  the  plunge. 

"  That's  it,  Nell.  I'm  hard  up  and  desperate.  If 
you  were  a  free  woman " 

She  struck  him  in  the  mouth  with  her  clenched 
hand — «  I'll  kill  her  first,  Dick  Haughton,"  and  then 
left  him. 

•  •  •  •  • 

A  mile  or  so  out  from  the  battery,  on  a  seldom 
used  track  that  led  to  an  abandoned  alluvial  workings, 
a  stained  and  weather-worn  biscuit-tin  had  been  nailed 
to  an  iron-bark  tree.  In  the  prosperous  days  of 
Mulliner's  it  had  been  placed  there  by  the  diggers 
as  a  receptacle  for  letters,  and  its  location  there  saved 
the  mailman  a  long  detour  to  their  camp.  At  present 
poor  loving  Kate  Channing  and  Dick  Haughton  were 
the  only  persons  who  ever  looked  into  it.  After 
getting  the  station  letters  from  the  landlord  of  the 
"  Booming  Nugget,"  Kate  would  ride  through  the  bush 
and  come  out  on  the  track  just  opposite ;  then,  bending 
down  from  her  horse,  she  would  peer  eagerly  into 
the  tin  to  see  if  a  letter  had  been  left  there  for  her. 
Generally  there  was  not.  So,  with  a  sad,  wistful  look 
in  her  blue  eyes,  she  would  drop  her  own  tenderly- 
worded  letter  in  and  ride  away  home. 

Twice  Nell  Lawson  had  seen  her  passing  over  the 


192  Nell  of  Mul liner's  Camp. 

ridge  towards  the  old  workings,  and  had  wondered 
what  had  taken  her  so  far  off  the  road  ;  and  on  each 
of  these  occasions  she  had  seen  Dick  Haughton  follow 
in  the  same  direction  shortly  after.  He  was  never 
away  more  than  half  an  hour.  The  first  time  she 
simply  wondered,  the  next  she  grew  suspicious,  and  as 
she  saw  him  returning  went  and  stopped  him.  As 
she  threw  her  arms  around  his  neck  she  felt  the 
rustling  of  a  letter  that  lay  loosely  in  the  front  of 
the  dungaree  jumper  he  always  wore  when  at  work. 
She  said  nothing,  but  determined  to  watch,  and  one 
day,  with  the  bitterest  hatred  gathering  at  her  heart, 
she  saw  Kate  Channing  ride  up  to  the  tin  on  the 
iron-bark,  look  carefully  inside,  and  then  drop  in  a 
letter.  And  as  Nell  Lawson  could  not  read  she  let 
it  lay  there  untouched.  But  from  that  hour  murder 
lay  in  her  passionate  heart. 

That  evening,  as  she  entered  Bob  Lawson's  humpy, 
her  husband,  a  big,  heavy-featured  man,  looked  up 
and  saw  the  ghastly  pallor  of  her  face. 

"  Why,  what's  the  matter  wi'  'ee,  Nell  ?  You  be 
lookin'  quite  sick-loike  lately.  Tell  'ee  what,  Nell, 
thee  wants  a  cheange." 

"MuUiner's  be  a  dull  pleace,"  she  answered,  me- 
chanically. 

"Aye,  lass,  dull  as  hell  in  a  fog.  Mebbe  I'll  take 
thee  somewheres  for  a  spell." 

For  nearly  another  week  she  nursed  her  hatred  and 
planned  her  revenge ;  and  Haughton,  as  he  saw  the 
dark  rings  forming  under  her  eyes,  and  the  cold, 
listless  manner  as  she  went  about  her  work,  began  to 
experience  a  higher  phase  of  feeling  for  her  than  that 


Nell  of  Mulliners  Camp.  193 

of   the   mere   passion   which    her    beauty  had    first 
awakened  in  him  long  months  before. 

It  was  five  o'clock  on  Sunday  afternoon.  The 
fierce,  blinding  sun  had  just  disappeared  behind  the 
hideous  basalt  range  twenty  miles  away  from  the 
"  Big  Surprise,"  when  Nell  Lawson  put  on  her  white 
sun-hood  and  walked  slowly  towards  the  old  alluvial 
workings.  When  well  out  of  sight  from  any  one, 
near  the  battery,  she  turned  ofF  towards  the  creek 
and  made  for  a  big  Leichhardt  tree  that  stood  on  the 
bank.  Underneath  it,  and  evidently  waiting  for  her, 
was  a  black  fellow,  a  truculent-looking  runaway  trooper 
named  Barney. 

*'  You  got  him  that  fellow  Barney  ?  "  she  asked,  in 
a  low  voice. 

"  Yo  ai^^  he  replied,  keeping  one  hand  behind  his 
back.  "  Where  that  plenty  fellow  money  you  yabber 
me  yesterday  ?  " 

"Here,"  and  she  showed  him  some  silver j  "ten 
fellow  shilling." 

Barney  grinned,  took  the  money,  and  then  handed 
her  an  old  broken-handled  crockery  teapot,  which,  in 
place  of  a  lid,  was  covered  over  with  a  strip  of  ti-tree 
bark,  firmly  secured  to  the  bottom  by  a  strip  of  dirty 
calico. 

As  soon  as  the  black  fellow  had  gone  she  picked  up 
that  which  he  had  given  her  and  walked  quickly  along 
the  track  till  she  reached  the  old  mail  tin.  She  stood 
awhile  and  listened.  Not  a  sound  disturbed  the 
heated,  oppressive  silence.  Placing  the  teapot  on 
the  ground,  she  lifted  the  stiff*,  creaking  lid  of  the  tin 
and  pushed  it  well  back.     Then,  taking  up  the  teapot 

14 


194  iVg//  of  Mulliners  Camp, 

again,  she  placed  one  hand  firmly  upon  the  ti-tree 
bark  covering  the  top,  while  with  the  other  she 
unfastened  the  strip  of  rag  that  kept  it  in  position. 
In  another  moment,  grasping  the  broken  spout  in  her 
left  hand,  she  held  it  over  the  open  tin,  and,  with  a 
rapid  motion,  turned  it  upside  down,  and  whipped 
away  her  right  hand  from  the  piece  of  bark. 

Something  fell  heavily  against  the  bottom  of  the 
tin,  and  in  an  instant  she  slammed  down  the  lid,  and 
threw  the  empty  teapot  in  among  the  boulders, 
where  it  smashed  to  pieces.  Then,  an  evil  smile  on 
her  dark  face,  she  placed  her  ear  to  the  side  of  the  tin 
and  listened.  A  faint,  creeping,  crawling  sound  was 
all  she  heard.  In  another  minute,  with  hand  pressed 
tightly  against  her  wildly  beating  heart,  she  fled 
homewards. 

•  •  •  •  • 

*'  This  will  be  my  last  ride  over,  dear  Ted,"  was 
the  beginning  of  the  letter  to  Ballantyne  that  lay  in 
Channing's  bosom.  "  Father  is  very  ill,  and  I  cannot 
leave  him.  Do  let  me  tell  him,  and  ask  his  forgive- 
ness ;  it  is  so  miserable  for  me  to  keep  up  this 
deceit." 

Darkness  had  set  in  by  the  time  she  had  got  the 
mail  from  the  landlord  of  the  "  Booming  Nugget," 
and  turned  her  horse's  head  into  the  track  that  led 
over  the  ridge  to  the  old  workings. 

Two  hours  before  daylight,  Kate  Channing's  horse 
walked  riderless  up  to  the  sliprails  of  Calypso  Downs, 
and  the  stockman  who  had  kept  awake  awaiting  her 
return,  went  out  to  let  his  young  mistress  in. 

"  Got  throwed  somewhere,  I  suppose,"  he  grumbled. 


Nell  of  Mul liner  s  Camp.  195 

after  examining  the  horse.  "  This  is  a  nice  go.  It's 
no  use  telling  the  old  man  about  it  3  he's  too  sick  to 
be  worried  just  now,  anyway." 

Taking  a  black  boy  with  him,  and  leading  Kate's 
horse,  he  set  out  to  look  for  her,  expecting,  unless  she 
was  hurt,  to  meet  her  somewhere  between  the  station 
and  Mulliner's  Camp.  Just  as  daylight  broke,  the 
black  boy,  who  was  leading,  stopped. 

"  Young  missus  been  tumble  off  horse  here,"  and 
he  pointed  to  where  the  scrubby  undergrowth  on  one 
side  of  the  track  was  crushed  down  and  broken. 

The  stockman  nodded.  "  Horse  been  shy  I  think 
it,  Billy,  at  that  old  fellow  post-office  there  ?  "  and  he 
pointed  to  the  old  mail  tin,  which  was  not  ten  feet 
from  where  Billy  said  she  had  fallen  ofF. 

"  Go  ahead,  Billy,"  said  the  stockman,  "  I  believe 
young  missus  no  catch  him  horse  again,  and  she  walk 
along  to  Mulliner's." 

"  To  at"  answered  the  black  boy,  and  he  started 
ahead.  In  a  few  minutes  he  stopped  again  with  a 
puzzled  look  and  pointed  to  Kate  Channing's  tracks. 

"  Young  missus  been  walk  about  all  same  drunk." 

"  By  jingo,  she's  got  hurted,  I  fear,"  said  the  stock- 
man.    «  Push  ahead,  Billy." 

A  hundred  yards  further  on  they  found  her  dead, 
lying  face  downwards  on  the  track. 

Lifting  her  cold,  stiffened  body  in  his  arms,  the 
stockman  carried  his  burden  along  to  Ballantyne's 
house.  Haughton  met  him  at  the  door.  Together 
they  laid  the  still  figure  upon  the  sofa  in  the  front 
room,  and  then  while  the  stockman  went  for  Nell 
Lawson,  Haughton  went  to  Ballantyne's  bunk  and 
awoke  and  told  him.     His  mouth  twitched  nervously 


196  Nell  of  Mul liner  s  Camp. 

for  a  second   or  two,  and  then   his  hard,  impassive 
nature  asserted  itself  again. 

•  •  •  •  • 

"'Tis  a  terrible  thing  this,  Ballantyne,"  said 
Haughton,  sympathetically,  as  they  walked  out  to- 
gether to  see  the  place  where  she  had  been  thrown. 

"Yes,"  assented  the  other,  "dreadful.  Did  you 
hear  what  Channing's  black  boy  told  me  ?  " 

«  No  ! " 

"  He  says  that  she  has  died  from  snake-bite.  I 
believe  him,  too.  I  saw  a  boy  die  on  the  Etheridge 
from  snake-bite,  and  he  looked  as  she  does  now  j 
besides  that,  there  is  not  a  scratch  or  bruise  on  her 
body,  so  she  couldn't  have  received  any  hurt  unless  it 
was  an  internal  one  when  she  was  thrown.  Here's 
the  place,"  and  then  he  started  back,  for  lying  at  the 
foot  of  the  tree  was  the  panting,  trembling  figure  of 
Nell  Lawson. 

She  had  tried  to  get  there  before  them  to  efface  all 
traces  of  her  deadly  work. 

"  What  are  you  doing  here,  Mrs.  Lawson  ?  "  said 
Ballantyne,  sharply ;  "  we  sent  over  for  you ;  don't 
you  know  what  has  happened  ?  " 

The  strange  hysterical  "  yes "  that  issued  from  her 
pallid  lips  caused  Ballantyne  to  turn  his  keen  grey 
eyes  upon  her  intently.  Then  something  of  the  truth 
must  have  flashed  across  his  mind,  for  he  walked  up  to 
the  tree  and  looked  into  the  tin. 

*'  Good  God  !  "  he  said,  "  poor  little  woman  !  "  and 
then  he  called  to  Haughton.  "Come  here,  and  see 
what  killed  her  !  " 

Haughton  looked,  and  a  deadly  horror  chilled  his 
blood :  lying  in  the  bottom  of  the  tin  was  a  thick, 


Nell  of  Mulliners  Camp.  197 

brownish-red  death  adder.  It  raised  its  hideous, 
flatted  head  for  a  moment,  then  lowered  it,  and  lay 
there  regarding  them  with  its  deadly  eye. 

"  How  did  it  get  there  ?  "  he  asked. 

Ballantyne  pointed  to  Nell  Lawson,  who  now  stood 
and  leant  against  a  tree  for  support. 

Haughton  sprang  to  her  side  and  seized  her  hands. 

"  Are  you  a  murderess,  Nell  ?  What  had  she  done 
to  you  that  you  should  take  her  innocent  life  ?  She 
was  nothing  to  me — she  was  Ballantyne's  wife." 

She  looked  at  him  steadily,  and  her  lips  moved,  then 
a  shrill,  horrible  laugh  burst  forth,  and  she  fell  un- 
conscious at  his  feet. 

That  day  Haughton  left  Mulliner's  Camp  for  ever. 

Perhaps  this  story  should  have  another  ending,  and 
Nell  Lawson  have  met  with  a  just  retribution.  But, 
as  is  the  case  of  many  other  women — and  men — with 
natures  such  as  hers,  she  did  not.  For  when  old 
Channing  lay  dying  she  nursed  him  tenderly  to  the 
last,  and  perhaps  because  of  this,  or  for  that  he  could 
never  understand  why  blue-eyed  Kate  had  never  come 
back,  he  left  her  all  he  had,  much  to  the  wondering 
admiration  of  honest,  dull-witted  Bob,  her  husband, 
who  almost  immediately  after  the  old  man's  death, 
when  returning  home  one  night  from  the  "  Booming 
Nugget,"  filled  with  a  great  peace  of  mind  and  a 
considerable  quantity  of  bad  rum,  fell  down  a  shaft 
and  broke  his  neck,  after  the  manner  of  one  of  old 
Channing's  bullocks — and  then  she  married  Ballantyne. 

Everything  seems  to  come  to  him  who  waits — 
especially  if  he  is  systematic  in  his  villainy,  and  has 
a  confiding  wife — as  had  Ballantyne  in  his  first  matri- 
monial venture. 


AURIKI  REEF 


Auriki  Reef, 


One  evening,  not  long  ago,  an  old  island  comrade 
and  I  sat  on  the  verandah  looking  out  upon  the  waters 
of  Sydney  Harbour,  smoking  and  talking  of  the  old 
wild  days  down  there  in  the  Marshall  group,  among 
the  brown  people  who  dwell  on  the  white  beaches 
under  the  shade  of  the  swaying  palms.  And  as  we 
talked,  the  faces  of  those  we  had  known  came  back 
one  by  one  to  our  memories,  and  passed  away. 

In  front  of  us,  with  her  tall,  black  spars  cutting  out 
clearly  against  the  flood  of  moonlight,  that  lit  up  the 
waters  of  the  quiet  little  bay,  lay  the  old  Wolverene — 
to  both  of  us  a  silent  reminder  of  one  night  not  long 
ago,  under  far-ofF  skies,  when  the  old  corvette  sailed 
past  our  little  schooner,  towering  up  above  us,  a  cloud 
of  spotless  white  canvas,  as  she  gracefully  rose  and 
sank  to  the  long  sweep  of  the  ocean  swell. 

•  •  •  •  • 

"  Poor  old  Tierney,"  said  my  friend,  alluding  to  the 
captain  of  that  little  schooner.  "  He's  dead  now ; 
blew  his  hand  ofF  with  dynamite  down  in  the  Gilbert 
Group — did  you  know  ?  " 

"  Yes.  What  a  good  fellow  he  was  !  There  are 
few  like  him  left  now.     Aye,  few  indeed." 


202  Auriki  Reef, 

"  By  the  way,  did  he  ever  tell  you  about  Jack 
Lester  and  his  little  daughter,  Tessa  ? " 

"Something  of  it.  You  were  with  him  in  the 
Mana  that  trip,  weren't  you  ?  " 


"  Yes,"  said  my  friend,  "  Brayley  and  I  both.  He 
had  been  up  to  Honolulu,  sick  ;  and  he  came  on  board 
of  the  Mana^  and  seemed  so  anxious  to  get  back  to  his 
station  on  Maduro  that  Tierney — good  old  fellow  as 
he  was — told  him  to  bring  his  traps  aboard,  and  he 
would  land  him  there  on  the  way  to  Samoa.  His 
wife  had  died  five  years  before,  and  he  had  to  leave  his 
station  in  the  care  of  his  daughter,  a  child  of  twelve  or 
so.  Not  that  he  fretted  much  about  the  station — it 
was  only  the  little  girl  he  thought  of." 

We  smoked  on  in  silence  awhile.  Then  my  friend 
resumed — 

"  I  shall  never  forget  that  voyage.  It  was  a  nignt 
such  as  this  that  it  happened — I  mean  that  affair  of  the 
boat  on  Auriki  Reef." 

Fifteen  years  ago  is  a  long  time  to  try  back,  and 
although  I  had  been  told  something  of  a  strange  inci- 
dent that  had  occurred  during  one  voyage  of  the 
Hawaiian  schooner  Mana  (she  is  now  a  Sydney  collier), 
I  could  not  recall  the  circumstances. 

So  then  my  friend  told  me  the  story  of  the  boat  on 
Auriki  Reef. 

•  •  •  •  • 

"I  have  told  you  that  Brayley  was  a  man  of  few 
words.  But  sometimes  as  we  paced  the  deck  together 
at  night,  as  the  schooner  skimmed  over  the  seas  before 
the  lusty  trade- wind,  he  would  talk  to  me  of  his  child ; 


Auriki  Reef.  203 

and  it  was  easy  for  me  to  see  that  his  love  for  her  was 
the  one  hope  of  his  life. 

" '  I  am  going  back  to  England  soon,'  he  said  to  me 
one  night ;  '  there  is  but  one  of  us  left — my  sister — 
and  I  would  like  to  see  her  face  again  in  this  world. 
She  is  older  than  I — she  is  past  fifty  now.  „.  .  .  And 
it  is  thirty  years  since  I  said  good-bye  to  her  .  .  . 
thirty  years  .  .  .  thirty  long  years,'  and  then  he  turned 
his  face  away  and  looked  out  upon  the  sea.  'Just  to 
see  her,  and  then  say  good-bye  again,  for  here  I  have 
cast  my  lot,  and  here  I  will  die.  If  I  were  alone  in 
the  world  perhaps  I  would  take  to  civilisation  again, 
but  Tessa  ' — he  shook  his  head — '  she  would  wither 
and  die  in  cold  England.' 

•  •  •  •  • 

"  Ten  days  out  we  ran  in  amongst  the  Radack 
Chain  of  the  Marshall  Islands,  and  the  wind  falling 
light,  and  being  surrounded  by  reefs  and  low  un- 
inhabited coral  atolls,  Tierney  brought  to,  and  anchored 
for  the  night.  You  know  the  spot,  about  nine  miles 
due  west  of  Ailuk,  and  between  two  sandy  atolls 
covered  with  a  scant  growth  of  cocoanuts  and  pan- 
danus  palms. 

•  •  •  •  • 

**  The  ship  being  all  right  the  hands  turned  in,  leav- 
ing only  one  man  on  watch,  while  we  three  white 
men  laid  down  aft  to  smoke  and  yarn.  It  was  a  bright 
moonlight  night,  as  light  as  day — ^just  such  a  night  as 
this.  Away  on  our  port  quarter,  distant  about  a  quarter 
of  a  mile,  was  a  shallow  patch  on  which  the  surf  was 
breaking.  It  was  merely  one  of  those  flat  patches  of 
coral  that,  rising  up  steep  from  the  bottom,  have  deep 


204  Auriki  Reef. 

water  all  round  them,  but  are  always  covered  on  the 
surface  by  a  depth  of  one  or  two  fathoms — '  mush- 
rooms,' we  call  them,  you  know.  Well,  it  was  such 
a  wonderfully  clear  night  that  that  shallow  patch,  with 
the  surf  hissing  and  swirling  over  and  around  it,  was 
as  clearly^visible  to  us  on  the  schooner  as  if  it  had  been 
under  our  counter,  nof  ten  feet  away. 

•  •  .  •  • 

"  Covering  up  my  face  from  the  vivid  moonlight 
with  a  soft  native  mat,  I  laid  down,  and  after  awhile 
dropped  ofF  to  sleep. 

"  How  long  I  had  been  asleep  I  did  not  know  then — 
I  learnt  afterwards  that  it  was  nearly  four  hours — when 
I  was  awakened  by  a  loud  hail  of  *  Boat  ahoy  ! '  called 
out  by  some  one  on  board. 

"I  was  awake  in  an  instant,  and  sprang  to  my  feet. 

"'What  is  it?'  I  said  to  Tierney  and  Brayley, 
who  were  standing  close  to  me,  looking  out  towards 
the  breaking  reef.  '  Where  is  the  boat  that  you  are 
hailing  ? ' 

"  Neither  of  them  answered ;  Tierney,  turning 
towards  me  for  a  second,  made  a  curious  half-com- 
manding, half-imploring  gesture  as  if  to  ask  my 
silence,  and  then  gripping  Brayley  by  his  shoulder, 
stared  wildly  at  the  white  seeth  of  the  breakers  astern 
of  us. 

"  A  quick  look  along  the  decks  for'ard  showed  me 
that  all  the  native  sailors  were  on  deck  and  clustered 
together  in  the  waist,  as  far  aft  as  they  dared  come. 
Each  man  had  hold  of  his  fellow,  and  with  open 
mouths  and  wildly  staring  eyes  they  stood  like  statues 
of  bronze,  in  an  attitude  of  horror  and  amazement. 

" '  What  is  it  ?'  I  commenced  again,  when  Tierney 


Auriki  "Reef.  ,         .  205 

slowly   raised    his    clenched   and    shaking   hand   and 
touched  me. 

" '  Look,'  he  said,  in  a  strange,  quivering  whisper, 
'  in  the  name  of  God,  man,  what  is  that  ? ' 


"  I  followed  the  direction  of  his  shaking  hand.  It 
pointed  along  the  broad,  golden  stream  of  moonlight 
that  ran  from  close  under  our  stern  right  across  to  the 
low,  black  line  that  we  knew  was  Ailuk  Island. 
For  a  moment  I  saw  nothing,  then,  suddenly,  amid 
the  wild  boil  of  the  surf  in  Auriki,  I  saw  a  boat,  a 
white-painted  boat  with  a  black  gunwale  streak.  One 
person  seemed  to  be  sitting  aft  with  his  face  drooping 
upon  his  breast.  The  boat  seemed  to  me  to  be  in 
the  very  centre  of  the  wild  turmoil  of  waters,  and  yet 
to  ride  with  perfect  ease  and  safety.  Presently,  how- 
ever, I  saw  that  it  was  on  the  other  side  of  the  reef, 
yet  so  close  that  the  back  spray  from  the  curling 
rollers  must  have  fallen  upon  it. 

•  •  •  •  • 

"  Pushing  Captain  Tierney  away  rrom  him,  Brayley 
suddenly  seemed  to  straighten  himself,  and  taking  a 
step  in  advance  of  us  he  again  hailed — 

«' Boat,  ahoy!' 

"  The  loud,  hoarse  cry  pealed  over  the  waters,  but 
no  answer  came  from  the  silent  figure,  and  then 
Brayley  turned  towards  us.  His  bronzed  features  had 
paled  to  the  hue  of  death,  and  for  a  moment  or  two 
his  mouth  twitched. 

" '  For  God's  sake,  Tierney,  call  the  hands  and 
lower  the  boat.  It  is  nothing  from  the  other  world 
that  we  see — //  is  my  daughter^  Tessa ^ 


2o6  Auriki  Reef. 

"  In  a  second  the  old  man  sprang  into  life  and 
action,  and  in  a  shrill  voice  that  sounded  like  a  scream 
he  called,  '  Man  the  boat,  lads ! ' 

"Before  one  could  have  counted  twenty  the  boat 
was  in  the  water,  clear  of  the  falls,  and  Tierney  and 
Brayley,  with  a  crew  of  four  natives,  were  pulling 
swiftly  for  the  other  boat. 


"  In  a  few  minutes  they  reached  her,  just  as  a  big 
roller  had  all  but  got  her  and  carried  her  right  on  top 
of  Auriki.  I  saw  Brayley  get  out  of  our  boat  and 
into  the  other,  and  Hft  the  sitting  figure  up  in  his 
arms,  and  then  Tierney  made  fast  a  line,  took  the 
strange  boat  in  tow,  and  headed  back  for  the  ship. 

"When  the  boat  was  within  speaking  distance, 
Tierney  hailed  me — 

**  *  Get  some  brandy  ready — she  is  alive.' 
.  •  •  •  • 

"We  carried  her  into  the  cabin,  and  as  Brayley 
bent  his  face  over  the  poor,  wasted  figure  of  his  child, 
the  hot  tears  ran  down  his  cheeks,  and  Tierney 
whispered  to  me,  *She  is  dying  fast.' 

*'We  all  knew  that  as  soon  as  we  looked  at  her. 
Already  the  grey  shadows  were  deepening  on  the  face 
of  the  wanderer  as  we  gathered  around  her,  speaking 
in  whispers.  Suddenly  the  loud  clamour  of  the  ship's 
bell,  struck  by  an  unthinking  sailor,  made  the  girl's 
frame  quiver. 

"  With  a  look  of  intense  pity  the  captain  motioned 
to  Brayley  to  raise  her  head  to  try  and  get  her  to 
swallow  a  teaspoonful  of  water.  Tenderly  the  trader 
raised  her,  and  then  for  a  moment  or  two  the  closed, 


Auriki  'Reef.  207 

weary  eyelids  slowly  drew  back  and  she  gazed  into  his 
face. 

"  *  Thank  God,'  the  captain  said,  '  she  knows  you. 
Bray  ley.' 

"  A  faint,  flickering  smile  played  about  her  lips  and 
then  ceased.  Then  a  long,  low  sigh,  and  her  head 
fell  upon  his  breast. 

•  •  •  •  • 

**  At  daylight  we  hove-up  anchor  and  stood  on  our 
course  for  Brayley's  Station  on  Arhnu.  Just  as  we 
rounded  the  south  end  of  Ailuk  Island  we  saw  the 
Lahaina^  schooner,  lying-to  and  signalling  that  she 
wanted  to  speak.  Her  skipper  came  aboard,  and 
hurriedly  shaking  hands  with  us,  asked  if  we  knew 
that  Jack  Brayley's  little  Tessa  had  gone  adrift  in  his 
boat  ten  days  ago. 

"  Silently  Tierney  led  him  to  the  open  skylight  and 
pointed  down  to  where  she  lay  with  her  fether  kneel- 
ing beside  her. 

" '  Poor  man  ! '  said  the  skipper  of  the  Lahaina. 
*  I'm  real  sorry.  I  heerd  from  the  natives  that  Tessa 
and  two  native  girls  and  a  boy  took  the  whaleboat,  for 
a  joke  like,  and  she  said  she  was  .going  to  meet  her 
father,  as  she  had  seen  him  in  her  sleep,  an'  she 
reckoned  he  was  close  to  on  the  sea  somewhere.  I 
guess  the  poor  thing's  got  swept  to  leeward  by  the 
current.     They  had  a  sail  in  the  boat.' 

" '  Aye,'  said  Tierney,  '  a  squall  must  have  struck 
the  boat  and  carried  away  the  mast ;  it  was  snapped 
off  short  about  a  foot  above  the  thwart.' 

"When  we  ran  into  Maduro  Lagoon  three  days 


2o8  Aurikt  "Reef. 

afterwards  our  flag  was  half-mast  high  for  Tessa 
Brayley,  and  for  her  father  as  well — for  we  had  found 
him  the  next  morning  on  his  knees  beside  her,  cold 
and  stifF  in  death,  with  his  dead  hand  clasped  around 
hers." 


Ar  THE  EBBING   OF  THE  TIDE 


15 


At  the  Ebbing  of  the  Tide. 

Black  Tom's  "hell"  was  one  of  the  institutions 
of  Samoa.  And  not  an  unpleasant  hell  to  look  at — 
a  long,  rambling,  one-storeyed,  white-painted  wooden 
building,  hidden  on  the  beach  side  from  ships  entering 
Apia  Harbour  by  a  number  of  stately  cocoanuts ;  and 
as  you  came  upon  it  from  the  palm-shaded  track  that 
led  from  the  brawling  little  Vaisigago  towards  the 
sweeping  curve  of  Matautu  Point,  the  blaze  of  scarlet 
hibiscus  growing  within  the  white-paled  garden  fence 
gave  to  this  sailors'  low  drinking-den  an  inviting 
appearance  of  sweetest  Arcadian  simplicity. 

That  was  nineteen  years  ago.  If  you  walk  along 
the  Matautu  path  now  and  ask  a  native  to  show  you 
where  Tom's  house  stood,  he  will  point  to  a  smooth, 
grass-covered  bank  extending  from  the  right-hand  side 
of  the  path  to  the  coarse,  black  sand  of  Matautu  beach. 
And,  although  many  of  the  present  white  residents 
of  the  Land  of  the  Treaty  Powers  have  heard  or 
Black  Tom,  only  a  few  grizzled  old  traders  and  store- 
keepers, relics  of  the  bygone  lively  days,  can  talk  to 
you  about  that  grim  deed  of  one  quiet  night  in 
September. 


212  At  the   'Ebbing  of  the  'Tide. 

Tamasi  Uliuli  (Black  Thomas),  as  he  was  called  by 
the  natives,  had  come  to  Samoa  in  the  fifties,  and, 
after  an  eventful  and  varied  experience  in  other 
portions  of  the  group,  had  settled  dow^n  to  business 
in  Matautu  as  a  publican,  baker  and  confectioner, 
butcher,  seamen's  crimp,  and  interpreter.  You  might 
go  all  over  the  Southern  States,  from  St.  Augustine  to 
Galveston,  and  not  meet  ten  such  splendid  specimens 
of  negro  physique  and  giant  strength  as  this  particular 
coloured  gentleman.  Tom  had  married  a  Samoan 
woman — Inusia — who  had  borne  him  three  children, 
two  daughters  and  one  son.  Of  this  latter  I  have 
naught  to  say  here,  save  that  the  story  of  his  short 
life  and  tragic  end  is  one  common  enough  to  those 
who  have  had  any  experience  of  a  trader's  life  among 
the  betel-chewing  savages  of  fever-haunted  New 
Britain.  And  the  eldest  daughter  may  also  "  stand 
out"  of  this  brief  tale. 

•  •  •  •  • 

Luisa  was  black.  There  was  no  doubt  about  that. 
But  she  was  also  comely  ;  and  her  youthful,  lissom 
figure  as  she  walked  with  springy  step  to  the  bathing- 
place  at  the  Vaisigago  gave  her  a  striking  individuality 
among  the  lighter-coloured  Samoan  girls  who  accom- 
panied her.  Yet  to  all  of  us  who  lived  in  Matautu 
the  greatest  charms  of  this  curly-haired  half-caste  were 
the  rich,  sweet  voice  and  gay  laugh  that  brightened  up 
her  dark-hued  countenance  as  we  passed  her  on  the 
path  and  returned  her  cheerful  "  Talofa,  alii !  "  with 
some  merry  jest.  And,  although  none  of  us  had  any 
incHnation  to  go  into  her  father's  pub.  and  let  him 
serve  us  with  a  bottle  of  Pilsener,  Luisa's  laughing 
face  and  curly  head  generally  had  attraction  enough 


At  the   'Ebbing  of  the  Tide.  2 1 3 

to  secure,  in  the  course  of  the  day,  a  good  many  half- 
dollars  for  the  5olb.  beef-keg  which  was  Black  Tom's 
treasury. 

•  •  •  •  • 

It  gave  us  a  shock  one  day  to  see  Luisa  emerging 
from  the  mission  chapel  with  a  white-haired  old  man 
by  her  side — married.  The  matter  had  been  arranged 
very  quietly.  For  about  two  months  previously  this 
ancient  had  been  one  of  Black  Tom's  boarders.  He 
was  from  New  Zealand,  and  had  come  to  Samoa  to 
invest  his  money  in  trade,  and  being,  perhaps,  of  a 
retiring  and  quiet  disposition  the  sight  of  Mr.  Thomas 
Tilton's  innocent-looking  dwelling  attracted  him 
thither.  Anyhow,  old  Dermott  remained  there,  and 
it  was  noticeable  that,  from  the  day  of  his  arrival, 
Tamasi  Uliuli  exacted  the  most  rigid  performance 
of  morning  and  evening  devotions  by  his  family,  and 
that  the  nightly  scenes  of  riot  and  howling  drunken- 
ness, that  had  theretofore  characterised  the  "  hotel," 
had  unaccountably  toned  dowii.  In  fact,  burly  old 
Alvord,  the  consular  interpreter,  who  had  been  accus- 
tomed to  expostulate  with  Tom  for  the  number  of 
prostrate  figures,  redolent  of  bad  rum,  lying  outside 
on  the  path  in  the  early  morning,  showing  by  the 
scarcity  of  their  attire  that  they  had  been  "gone 
through"  by  thieving  natives,  expressed  the  opinion 
that  Tom  was  either  going  mad,  or  "was  getting 
consairned  "  about  his  sinful  soul. 

•  •  •  •  • 

The  knowledge  ot  the  fact  that  old  Dermott  had  so 
much  worldly  wealth  stowed  away  in  his  camphor- 
wood  trunk,  may  have  had  (doubtless  it  did)  the  effect 
of  causing  this  remarkable   change   in  Tom's  daily 


214  ^/  the  Bobbing  of  the  Tide, 

conduct.  Dermott,  in  his  way,  was  sourly  religious  ; 
and,  although  not  understanding  a  word  of  Samoan, 
was  fond  of  attending  the  native  church  at  Apia — 
always  in  the  wake  of  Luisa,  Toe-o-le-Sasa,  and  other 
young  girls.  His  solemn,  wrinkled  visage,  with 
deep-set  eyes,  ever  steadily  fixed  upon  the  object  of 
his  affection,  proved  a  source  of  much  diversion  to  the 
native  congregation,  and  poor  Luisa  was  subjected  to 
the  usual  Samoan  jests  about  the  toeina  and  ulu  tula 
(old  man  and  bald  head),  and  would  arrive  from  the 
church  at  her  father's  hell  in  a  state  of  suppressed 
exasperation. 

The  happy  marriage  had  been  celebrated  by  Tom 
and  his  clientele  in  a  manner  befitting  the  occasion  and 
the  supposed  wealth  of  the  bridegroom.  Then  none 
of  us  saw  Luisa  for  a  week  at  the  bathing-place,  and 
her  non-appearance  was  discussed  with  interest  at  the 
nightly  kava-drinking  at  half-caste  Johnny  Hall's 
public-house.  Old  Toi'foi,  duenna  of  the  kava-chewing 
girls,  used  to  say  solemnly  that  the  old  man  had  Luisa 
locked  up  in  her  room  as  she  was  vale  (obstinate),  and 
sat  on  a  chair  outside  and  looked  at  her  through  a  hole 
in  the  wall. 

•  •  •  •  • 

An  hour  after  midnight  on  one  of  those  silent  tropic 
nights  when  naught  is  heard  but  the  muffled  boom  of 
the  ocean  swell  on  the  outer  reef,  a  shot  rang  out 
through  the  sleeping  village,  and  then  a  long  wail  as 
of  some  one  in  mortal  agony  or  terror.  Leger,  the 
Canadian  carpenter  at  Macfarlane's  store,  was,  in 
company  with  Alvord  the  Swearer,  and  Pedro  the 
Publican,  and  many  of  us  general  sinners,  up  late  at 
the  kava-bowl  when  Leva,  the  prettiest  girl  on  the 


At  the   'Ebbing  of  the  Tide,  2 1 5 

Point,  and  the  most  notorious  nymphe  du  beach  in 
Apia  (there  are  no  pavements  in  Samoa),  dashed  in 
amongst  us  with  the  announcement  that  "  Luisa  was 
dead."  In  another  ten  seconds  we  kava-drinkers,  with 
unsteady  legs  but  clear  heads,  were  outside  on  our  way 
to  Black  Tom's  house,  which  was  within  pistol-shot. 

An  old  man  with  a  throat  cut  from  ear  to  ear  is  not 
a  cheerful  sight  at  any  time,  and  we  turned  quickly 
away  from  where  he  lay  on  the  once  spotless  white 
bed,  now  an  ensanguined  horror,  to  look  at  poor  Luisa, 
who  lay  on  a  mat  on  the  floor,  gasping  out  her  brief 
young  life.  Her  head  was  pillowed  on  her  mother's 
bosom,  and  down  her  side  the  blood  ran  from  the 
jagged  bullet-hole.  On  a  chair  sat  the  herculean 
figure  of  Black  Tom  with  his  face  in  his  hands, 
through  which  splashed  heavy  tears.  Slowly  he  rocked 
himself  to  and  fro  in  the  manner  of  his  race  when 
strongly  moved  ;  and  when  he  tried  to  speak  there 
only  struck  upon  our  ears  a  horrible  gasping  noise  that 
somehow  made  us  turn  again  to  the  awful  thing  on 
the  bed  to  see  if  it  had  aught  to  say  upon  the  matter. 

Luisa  spoke  but  Httle.  The  kind-faced,  quiet- 
voiced  missionary  doctor  told  her  that  which  she 
already  knew  too  well  j  and  then  we  drew  away 
while  he  spoke  of  other  things,  and  we  saw  the  look 
of  dread  and  horror  on  the  comely  young  face  pass 
away  and  a  faint  smile  part  the  lips  that  were  already 
touched  by  the  grim  shadow  of  coming  dissolution. 
Some  of  her  village  playmates  and  companions,  with 
wet  cheeks,  bent  their  faces  and  touched  her  lips  with 
theirs,  and  to  each  she  sighed  a  low  To  Fa  of  ferewell, 


2 1 6  At  the  Ebbing  of  the  lide, 

and  then  she  looked  toward  the  shaking  bent  figure 
in  the  chair  and  beckoned  him  over.  With  noiseless 
tread  he  came,  and  then,  with  her  very  soul  looking 
at  him  from  her  great,  death-stricken  eyes,  she 
murmured,  "  Fear  not,  my  father,  my  mouth  is 
covered  by  the  hand  of  Death  j    farewell  !  " 

The  sound  of  the  soft  lapping  of  the  falling  tide 
came  through  the  open  window  as  Luisa  spoke  again 
to  Toe-o-le-Sasa,  the  Maid  of  Apia — "  E  Toe,  e  pae 
afea  te  tai?^^  ('"When  is  the  tide  out  ?  ")  And  the 
girl  answered  with  a  sob  in  her  throat,  "  In  quite  a 
little  while,  O  friend  of  my  heart." 

"  Ua  lele'i.  (It  is  well.)  And  as  the  waters  run 
out  so  does  my  soul  float  away  !  "  and  she  turned  her 
face  to  her  mother's  bosom.  And  as  we  went  softly 
out  from  the  room  and  stood  upon  the  path  with  the 
lofty  palm-plumes  rustling  above  us,  we  saw  the  first 
swirling  wave  of  the  incoming  tide  ripple  round 
Matautu  Point  and  plash  on  Hamilton's  beach.  And 
from  within  the  silent  house  answered  the  wail  of 
Death. 


THE  FALLACIES  OF  MILLIARD 


The    Fallacies  of  Hilliard, 

With  clenched  hand  grasping  the  two  letters — the 
one  that  sank  his  last  hope  of  saving  his  plantation,  and 
the  other  that  blasted  his  trust  in  human  nature — 
Hilliard,  the  planter  of  Nairai  Viwa,  walked  with 
quick,  firm  step  to  his  house,  and  sat  down  to  think 
awhile.  The  great  cotton  "burst-up"  had  ruined 
most  men  in  Fiji,  and  although  long  delayed  in  his 
case  the  blow  had  crushed  him  utterly. 

An  angry  flush  tinged  his  set  features  for  a  few 
seconds  as  he  re-read  the  curt,  almost  savage  denial, 
by  his  father  of  the  "couple  of  thousand  "  asked  for. 
"A  fool  to  resign  his  commission  in  the  Service  and 
go  into  a  thing  he  knew  nothing  about,  merely  to 
humour  the  fantastic  whim  of  a  woman  of  fashion 
who  will,  no  doubt,  now  sheer  very  clear  of  your 
wrecked  fortunes." 

Ten  minutes   previously  when   Hilliard,  who  had 

thought  his  father  would  never  see  him  go  under  for 

the  sake  of  a  couple  of  thou.,  had  read  these  lines 

he  had  smiled,  even  with  the  despair  of  broken  fortune 

at  his  heart,  as   he   looked   at   the   other  letter   yet 

unopened. 

Kitty,  at  least,  would  stick  to  him.     He  was  not 
219 


220  The  Fallacies  of  Hilliard, 

a  maudlin  sentimentalist,  but  the  memory  of  her 
farewell  kisses  was  yet  strong  with  him  j  and  his  past 
experiences  of  woman's  weaknesses  and  his  own 
strength  justified  him  in  thinking  that  in  this  one 
woman  he  had  found  his  pearl  of  great  price. 

Then  he  read  her  letter  j  and  as  he  read  the  tappa 
mallets  at  work  in  the  Fijian  houses  hard  by  seemed 
to  thump  in  unison  with  the  dull  beats  of  his  heart  as 
he  stared  at  the  correctly-worded  and  conventionally- 
expressed  lines  that  mocked  at  his  fond  imaginings  of 
but  a  few  breaths  back. 

Jimmy,  the  curly-headed  half-caste  who  had  brought 
him  his  letters  from  Levuka,  had  followed  in  his  steps 
and  was  sitting,  hat  in  hand,  on  the  sofa  before  him 
when  Hilliard  raised  his  face.  The  fixed  pallor  had 
left  his  bronzed  cheeks.  For  an  instant  the  face  of 
another  man  had  passed  before  him — Lamington,  his 
one-time  fellow-officer,  whom  every  one  but  Hilliard 
himself  looked  upon  as  being  first  "  in  the  running  " 
with  the  woman  who  had  pledged  herself  to  him. 
But,  then,  Lamington  himself  had  told  him  that 
she  had  refused  him,  heir  to  a  big  fortune  as  he  was, 
and  they  had  shaken  hands,  and  Lamington  had 
wished  him  luck  in  his  honest,  good-natured  fashion. 
*'  Perhaps,"  and  here  the  dark  flush  mantled  his 
forehead,  "  he's  tried  again  and  she's  slung  me.  And 
I  .  .  .  what  a  damnably  unpleasant  and  quick  intuition 
of  women's  ways  my  old  dad  has  !  I  always  wondered 
why  such  a  fiery  devil  as  he  was  married  such  a 
milk-and-water   creature   as    my   good   mother.     By 

,  I  begin  to  think  he  went  on  safe  lines,  and  I  on 

a  fallacy ! " 


'The  Fallacies  oj  Hilltard,  221 

The  stolid  face  of  Jimmy  recalled  him  to  the 
present.  He  must  give  up  the  plantation  and  take  a 
berth  of  some  sort.  From  the  sideboard  he  took  a 
flask  of  Hquor  and  poured  out  two  big  drinks. 

"  Here,  Jimmy,  my  boy.  This  is  the  last  drink 
you'll  get  on  Nairai  Viwa.  I'm  burst  up,  cleaned 
out,  dead  broke,  and  going  to  hell  generally." 

Jimmy  grunted  and  held  out  his  brown  hand  for 
the  grog.  "  Yes  ?  I  s'pose  you'll  go  to  Levuka 
first  ?     I'll  give  you  a  passage  in  the  cutter." 

HiUiard  laughed  with  mingled  bitterness  and 
sarcasm.  "  Right,  Jimmy.  Levuka  is  much  like  the 
other  place,  and  I'll  get  experience  there,  if  I  don't  get 
a  billet." 

"  Here's  luck  to  you,  sir,  wherever  you  go,"  and 
Jimmy's  thick  lips  glued  themselves  lovingly  to  the 
glass. 

HiUiard  drank  his  oft  quietly,  only  muttering  to 
himself,  "  Here's  good-bye  to  the  fallacies  of  hope," 
and  then,  being  at  bottom  a  man  of  sense  and  quick 
resolution,  he  packed  his  traps  and  at  sunset  went  aboard 
the  cutter.  As  they  rippled  along  with  the  first  puffs 
of  the  land-breeze,  he  glanced  back  but  once  at  the 
lights  of  Nairai  Viwa  village  that  illumined  the 
cutter's  wake,  and  then,  like  a  wise  man,  the  hopes 
and  dreams  of  the  past  drifted  astern  too. 

And  then  for  the  next  two  years  he  drifted  about 
from  one  group  to  another  till  he  found  an  island  that 
suited  him  well — no  other  white  man  lived  there. 


222  The  Fallacies  of  Hilliard. 

II. 

The  laughing,  merry-voiced  native  children  vs^ho, 
with  speedy  feet,  ran  to  the  house  of  Iliati,  the  trader, 
to  tell  him  that  a  visitor  was  coming  from  the  man-of- 
war,  had  gathered  with  panting  breath  and  hushed 
expectancy  at  the  door  as  the  figure  of  the  naval 
officer  turned  a  bend  in  the  path,  his  right  hand 
clasped  with  a  proud  air  of  proprietorship  by  that  or 
the  ten-year-old  son  of  Alberti  the  Chief. 

Iliati,  with  a  half-angry,  half-pleased  look,  held  out 
his  hand. 

"  Lamington  ! " 

"  Hilliard  !  old  fellow.  Why  didn't  you  come  on 
board  t     Are  all  your  old  friends  forgotten  ?  " 

"  Pretty  nearly,  Lamington.  Since  I  came  a 
cropper  over  that  accursed  cotton  swindle  I've  not  had 
any  inclination  to  meet  any  one  I  knew — especially 
any  one  in  the  Service,  but" — and  his  voice  rang 
honestly,  "  I  always  wondered  whether  you  and  I 
would  ever  meet  again." 

"  Hilliard,"  and  Lamington  placed  his  hand  on  the 
trader's  shoulder,  "  I  know  all  about  it.  And  look 
here,  old  man.  I  saw  her  only  two  months  ago — at 
her  especial  request.  She  sent  for  me  to  talk  about 
you." 

"  Ah  ! "  and  the  trader's  voice  sounded  coldly,  *'  I 
thought,  long  ago,  that  she  had  reconsidered  her  foolish 
decision  of  other  days  and  had  long  since  become  Mrs. 
Lamington.  But  it  doesn't  interest  me,  old  fellow. 
Can  you  drink  Fiji  rum,  Lamington  ?  Haven't  any- 
thing better  to  offer  you." 


The  Fallacies  of  Hilltard.  223 

"I'll  drink  anything  you've  got,  old  fellow,  even 
liquid  Tophet  boiled  down  to  a  small  half-pint ;  but  I 
want  you  to  listen  to  me  first.  I've  been  a  bit  of  a 
scoundrel  to  you,  but,  by  God,  old  man,  I  exchanged 
into  the  beastly  old  Petrel  for  this  cruise  expressly  to 
find  you  and  make  a  clean  breast  of  it.  I  promised 
her  I  would." 

"Confound  it  all,  Lamington,  don't  harrow  your 
feelings  needlessly,  and  let  us  have  the  rum  and  talk 
about  anything  else." 

"  No,  we  won't.  Look  here,  Hilliard,  it  sounds 
beastly  low,  but  I  must  get  it  out.  We  met  again — 
at  a  ball  in  Sydney  more  than  two  years  ago.  Some 
infernal  chattering  women  were  talking  a  lot  of  rot 
about  the  planters  in  Fiji  having  very  pretty  and  privi- 
leged native  servants — and  all  that,  you  know.  She 
fired  up  and  denied  it,  but  came  and  asked  me  if  it 
was  true,  and  I  was  mean  enough  not  to  give  it  a 
straight  denial.  How  the  devil  it  happened  I  can't 
tell  you,  but  we  danced  a  deuce  of  a  lot  and  I  lost  my 
senses  and  asked  her  again,  and  she  said  '  Yes.'     Had 

she  been  any  other  woman  but  Miss ,  I  would 

have  concluded  that  the  soft  music  and  all  that  had 
dazed  her.  It  does  sometimes — lots  of  'em  ;  makes 
the  most  virtuous  wife  wish  she  could  be  a  sinner  and 
resume  her  normal  goodness  next  day.  But  Kitty 
is  different.  And  it  was  only  that  infernal  twaddle 
caused  it  and  made  her  write  you  that  letter.  A  week 
hadn't  passed  before  she  wrote  to  me  and  told  me 
how  miserable  she  was.     But  I  knew  all  through  she 

didn't  care  a  d about  me.     And  that's  the  way 

it  occurred,  old  man." 

Hilliard's  hand  met  his.     "Say  no  more  about  it, 


224  ^^^  Fallacies  of  Hilliard. 

Lamington  ;  it's  a  mea  mate^  as  we  say  here — a  thing 
that  is  past." 

"  But,  good  God,  old  fellow,  you  don't  understand. 
She's  written  ever  so  many  times  to  you.  No  one  in 
Levuka  knew  where  you  had  gone  to  ;  there's  thou- 
sands of  islands  in  the  South  Seas.  And  this  letter 
here,"  he  held  it  toward  him,  "  she  gave  to  me,  and  I 
promised  her  on  my  honour  as  a  man  to  effect  an 
exchange  into  the  Petrel  and  find  you." 

"Thanks,  Lamington.  You  always  were  a  good 
fellow."  He  laid  the  letter  on  the  table  quietly  and 
rose  and  got  the  rum. 

A  young  native  girl,  with  deep  lustrous  eyes 
shining  from  a  face  of  almost  childish  innocence,  had 
entered  the  door  and  stood  with  one  bare  and  softly- 
rounded  arm  clasped  round  the  neck  of  Alberti's  little 
son.  Her  lips  parted  in  a  smile  as  Lamington,  with 
a  gasping  cough,  set  down  his  glass  after  drinking  the 
potent  spirit,  and  she  set  her  brows  in  mock  ferocity 
at  Hilliard  who  drank  his  down  like  an  old-time 
beachcomber. 

"By  Jove,  Hilliard,  what  an  astonishingly  pretty 
face  !  She  could  give  any  New  Orleans  Creole  points. 
Time  you  got  out  of  this  before  some  of  the  Rotumah 
beauties  make  you  forget  things ;  and  oh,  by  the  way, 
I'm  forgetting  things.  Remember  you  are  to  come 
aboard  and  dine  with  us  to-night,  and  that  you're  in 

indifferent   health,  and   that  Captain   ,   of  Her 

Majesty's  ship  Petrel^  is  going  to  give  you  a  passage 
to  Sydney." 

At  an  angry  sign  from  Hilliard  the  girl  disappeared. 
Then    he    shook   his   head.     "  No,    Lamington.     I 


The  Fallacies  of  Hilliard.  225 

appreciate  your  kindness,  but  cannot  accept  it.  I've 
been  here  two  years  now,  and  Alberti,  the  principal 
local  chief,  thinks  no  end  of  me  j  and  he's  a  deuced 
fine  fellow,  and  has  been  as  good  as  ten  fathers  to  me. 
And  I've  business  matters  to  attend  to  as  well." 

Lamington  pressed  him  no  further.  "  Ludky  devil," 
he  thought.  "  I  suppose  he'll  clear  out  in  the  trading 
schooner  to  Sydney,  next  week  ;  be  there  long  before 
us  any  way,  and  I'll  find  them  well  over  the  first  stage 
of  married  infatuation  when  I  see  him  next." 

Another  hour's  chat  of  old  times  and  old  shipmates 
in  the  Challenger^  and  Lamington,  with  his  honest, 
clean-shaven  face  looking  into  the  quiet,  impassive 
features  of  the  ex-officer,  had  gripped  his  hand  and 
gone,  and  Hilliard  went  over  to  the  house  of  Alberti, 
the  chief,  to  drink  kava — and  see  the  old  French 
priest.  From  there,  an  hour  afterward,  he  saw  the 
cruiser  with  wet,  shining  sides  dip  into  the  long  roll 
of  the  ocean  swell,  as  with  the  smoke  pouring  from 
her  yellow  funnel  she  was  lost  to  sight  rounding  the 
point. 

Said  the  son  of  Alberti  to  Lela,  the  innocent-faced 
girl  with  the  dancing,  starlike  eyes  and  red  lips,  as 
they  stood  watching  the  last  curling  rings  of  the 
steamer's  smoke — "  And  so  that  is  why  I  knew  much 
of  what  the  papalagi  from  the  man-of-war  said  to 
your  Iliati  ;  Alberti,  my  father,  has  taught  me  much 
of  your  man's  tongue.  And,  look  thou,  Lela  the 
Cunning,  Iliati  hath  a  wife  in  his  own  country  !  " 

"  Pah  !  " — and  she  shook  her  long,  wavy  locks 
composedly,  and  then  plucked  a  scarlet  hibiscus  flower 

16 


226  T'he  Fallacies  of  Hilliard. 

to  stick  in  front  of  one  of  her  pretty  little  ears — 
"  what  does  that  matter  to  me,  fathead  ?  I  am  she 
here  ;  and  when  Iliati  goeth  away  to  her  she  will  be 
me  there.  But  he  loveth  me  more  than  any  other  on 
Rotumah,  and  hath  told  me  that  where  he  goeth  I 
shall  go  also.  And  who  knoweth  but  that  if  I  have  a 
son  he  may  marry  me  ?  Then  shalt  thou  see  such  a 
wedding-feast  as  only  rich  people  give.  And  listen — 
for  why  should  I  not  tell  thee :  'Tis  well  to  starve  thy- 
self now,  for  it  may  be  to-morrow,  for  look  !  fathead, 
there  goeth  the  priest  into  thy  father's  house,  and 
Iliati  is  already  there." 


A   TALE  OF  A  MASK 


A  Tale  of  a  Mash 

Lannigan,  who  lived  on  Motukoe,  was  in  debt  to 
his  firm.  This  was  partly  due  to  his  fondness  for 
trade  gin  and  partly  because  Bully  Hayes  had  called 
at  the  island  a  month  or  so  back  and  the  genial  Bully 
and  he  had  played  a  game  or  two  of  poker. 

"I'll  give  you  your  revenge  when  I  come  back 
from  the  Carolines,  Lannigan,"  said  the  redoubtable 
captain  as  he  scooped  in  every  dollar  of  the  trader's 
takings  for  the  past  six  months.  And  Lannigan, 
grasping  his  hand  warmly  and  declaring  it  was  a 
pleasure  to  be  "claned  out  by  a  gintleman,"  bade 
him  good-bye  and  went  to  sleep  away  from  home  for 
a  day  with  some  native  friends.  Tariro,  his  Manhiki 
wife,  had  a  somewhat  violent  temper,  and  during  the 
poker  incident  had  indulged  in  much  vituperative 
language  outside,  directed  at  white  men  in  general 
and  Lannigan  in  particular. 

"See,  thou  swiller  of  gin,  see  what  thy  folly  has 
brought  us  to,"  said  the  justly-incensed  Tariro,  when 
he  came  back,  and  with  her  took  stock  of  his  trade 
goods  ;  "  a  thousand  and  five  hundred  dollars'  worth 
of  trade  came  we  here  with,  and  thou  hast  naught  to 

229 


230  A  Tale  of  a  Mask. 

show  for  it  but  five  casks  of  oil  and  a  few  stinking 
shark-fins  j  and  surely  the  ship  of  the  malo  (his  firm) 
will  be  here  this  month." 

Lannigan  was  in  a  bit  of  a  fix.  The  firm  he  was 
trading  for  on  Motukoe  didn't  do  business  in  the  same 
free-and-easy  way  as  did  Bobby  Towns'  captains  and 
the  unconventional  Bully  Hayes.  They  made  him 
sign  papers,  and  every  time  the  ship  came  the  rufous- 
headed  Scotch  supercargo  took  stock,  and  a  violent 
altercation  would  result  over  the  price  of  the  trade ; 
but  as  the  trader  generally  had  a  big  lot  of  produce 
for  the  ship,  matters  always  ended  amicably.  He — or 
rather  his  wife,  Tariro — was  too  good  a  trader  to 
have  an  open  rupture  with,  and  the  wordy  warfare 
always  resulted  in  the  trader  saying,  in  his  matter-of- 
fact  way,  *'  Well,  I  suppose  it's  right  enough.  You 
only  rob  me  wanst  in  twelve  months,  and  I  rob  the 
natives  here  every  day  of  my  life.  Give  me  in  a  case 
of  gin,  an'  I'll  send  ye  a  pig." 

But  he  had  never  been  so  much  in  debt  as  he  was 
now.  Tariro  and  he  talked  it  over,  and  hit  upon  a 
plan.  He  was  to  say,  when  the  ship  came,  that  he 
had  but  five  casks  of  oil ;  all  his  trade  had  been  sold 
for  cash,  and  the  cash — a  thousand  dollars — represented 
by  a  bag  of  copper  bolts  picked  up  on  the  reef  from  an 
old  wreck,  was  to  be  taken  off  to  the  ship  and  acci- 
dentally dropped  overboard  as  it  was  being  passed  up 
on  deck.  This  was  Lannigan's  idea,  and  Tariro 
straightway  tied  up  the  bolts  in  readiness  in  many 
thicknesses  of  sail-cloth. 

"  Here's  Lannigan  coming,"  called  out  the  captain 


A  Tale  of  a  Mask.  231 

of  the  trading  vessel  to  the  supercargo,  a  week  or  so 
afterwards,  "and  that  saucy  Manhiki  woman  as  usual 
with  him,  to  see  that  he  doesn't  get  drunk.  The  devil 
take  such  as  her  !  There's  no  show  of  getting  him 
tight." 

"  How  are  you,  Lannigan  ?  "  said  the  supercargo, 
wiping  his  perspiring  brow.  He  had  just  come  out  of 
the  hold  where  he  had  been  opening  tinned  meats,  and 
putting  all  the  "  blown  "  tins  he  could  find  into  one 
especial  case — for  Lannigan.  This  was  what  he 
called  "  makin'  a  mairgin  for  loss  on  the  meats, 
which  didna  pay  well." 

"  Fine,"  said  the  genial  Lannigan,  "  an'  I  haven't 
got  but  five  casks  of  oil  for  yez.  Devil  a  drop  av  oil 
would  the  people  make  when  they  looked  at  the 
bewtiful  lot  av  trade  ye  gave  me  last  time.  They 
just  rushed  me  wid  cash,  an'  I  tuk  a  matter  av  a 
thousand  dollars  or  so  in  a  month." 

"Verra  guid  business,"  said  the  supercargo,  "but 
ye  made  a  gran'  meestake  in  selling  the  guids  for 
Cheelian  dollars  instead  of  oil.  An'  sae  I  must 
debit  ye  wi'  a  loss  of  twenty-five  par  cent,  on  the 
money " 

"  Chile  dollars  be  damned  !  "  said  Lannigan  ;  "  all 
good  American  dollars  —  we've  had  about  twenty 
whaleships  here,  buyin'  pigs  an'  poultry  an'  pearl 
shell." 

"  Twenty  -  one  ship  !  "  said  Tariro,  blowing  the 
smoke  of  her  cigarette  through  her  pretty  little  nose. 

"  Whaur's  the  money,  onyway  ?  "  said  the  super- 
cargo J  "  let's  get  to  business,  Lannigan.  Eh,  mon, 
I've  some  verra  fine  beef  for  ye." 

"  Get  the  bag  up  out  of  the  boat,  Tariro,"  said  the 


232  A  Tale  of  a  Mask. 

trader ;  "  it's  mighty  frightened  I  was  havin'  so  much 
money  in  the  house  at  wanst,  wid  all  them  rowdy 
Yankee  sailors  from  the  whaleships  ashore  here." 

•  •  •  •  • 

There  was  a  great  crowd  of  natives  on  deck — over 
a  hundred — and  the  mate  was  swearing  violently  at 
them  for  getting  in  his  way.  The  schooner  was  a 
very  small  vessel,  and  Motukoe  being  her  first  place 
of  call  for  cargo,  she  was  in  light  trim,  having  only 
her  trade  and  a  little  ballast  on  board. 

"  Send  those  natives  away  from  the  galley,"  he 
called  out  to  the  cook,  who  was  giving  some  of  the 
young  women  ship-biscuits  in  exchange  for  young 
cocoanuts ;  "  can't  you  see  the  ship  keeps  flying  up  in 
the  wind  with  all  those  people  for'ard  !  " 

•  •  .  •  • 

Hekemanu,  Lannigan's  native  "  Man  Jack,"  sat  in 
the  boat  towing  alongside,  with  the  bag  of  "  dollars  " 
at  his  feet.  He  and  all  the  boat's  crew  were  in  the 
secret.  Lannigan  owned  their  souls  j  besides,  they 
all  liked  him  on  Motukoe. 

Tariro  stood  for  a  moment  beside  the  captain, 
indulging  in  the  usual  broad  "chafF,"  and  then  leaning 
over  the  rail  she  called  out  to  Hekemanu  :  la  mai  te 
taga  tupe  ("give  me  the  bag  of  money"). 

The  man  for'ard  hauled  on  the  line  to  bring  the 
boat  alongside  the  schooner,  and  Hekemanu  stood  up 
with  the  heavy  bag  in  his  hand. 

"  Hold  on  there,  you  fool !  If  you  drop  that  bag 
I'll  knock  your  head  off,"  said  the  skipper.  "  Here, 
Mr.  Bates,  just  you  jump  down  and  take  that  money 
from  that  native,  or  he'll  drop  it,  sure." 


A  Tale  of  a  Mask.  233 

Before  Hekemanu  had  time  to  let  it  fall  over  the 
side  the  mate  had  jumped  into  the  boat  and  taken 
it. 

Lannigan,  putting  his  head  up  out  of  the  little 
cabin,  groaned  inwardly  as  he  saw  the  mate  step  over 
the  rail  with  the  fateful  bag  and  hand  it  to  the  super- 
cargo. 

"  Be  the  powers,  ye're  in  a  mighty  hurry  for  the 
money,"  said  Lannigan,  roughly,  talcing  it  from  him, 
*'  ye  might  ax  me  if  I  had  a  mouth  on  me  first." 

The  supercargo  laughed  and  put  a  bottle  of  gin  on 
the  table,  and  Lannigan's  fertile  brain  commenced  to 
work.  If  he  could  only  get  the  supercargo  out  of  the 
cabin  for  a  minute  he  meant  to  pick  up  the  bag,  and 
declaring  he  was  insulted  get  it  back  into  his  boat  and 
tell  him  to  come  and  count  it  ashore.  Then  he 
could  get  capsized  on  the  reef  and  lose  it.  They 
were  always  having  "  barneys,"  and  it  would  only  be 
looked  upon  as  one  of  his  usual  freaks. 

"  What  the  deuce  is  that  ?  "  he  said,  pointing  to  a 
hideous,  highly-coloured  paper  mask  that  hung  up  in 
the  cabin. 

The  supercargo  handed  it  to  him.  "  It's  for  a  man 
in  Samoa — a  silly,  joking  body,  always  playing  pranks 
wi'  the  natives,  and  I  thoct  he  would  like  the  thing." 

**  Bedad,  'tis  enough  to  scare  the  sowl  out  av  the 
divil,"  said  Lannigan. 

Just  then  a  mob  of  natives  came  aft,  and  the  two 
men  in  the  cabin  heard  the  captain  tell  them  to 
clear  out  again.  They  were  saucy  and  wouldn't  go. 
Hekemanu  had  told  them  of  the  failure  of  Lannigan's 
dodge,  and  they  had  an  idea  that  the  ship  would  take 


234  ^  T^^^  of  ^  Mask. 

him  away,  and  stood  by  to  rescue  him  at  the  word  of 
command. 

"  I'll  verra  soon  hunt  them,"  said  the  supercargo, 
with  a  proud  smile,  and  he  put  the  mask  on  his  face. 
Tariro  made  a  bolt  on  deck  and  called  out  to  the 
natives  that  the  supercargo  was  going  to  frighten  them 
with  a  mask. 

•  •  •  •  • 

Instead  of  wild  yells  of  fear  and  jumping  overboard, 
as  he  imagined  would  happen,  the  natives  merely 
laughed,  but  edged  away  for'ard. 

The  schooner  was  in  quite  close  to  the  reef;  the 
water  was  very  deep,  and  there  was  no  danger  of 
striking.  She  was  under  jib  and  mainsail  only,  but 
the  breeze  was  fresh  and  she  was  travelling  at  a  great 
rate.  The  wind  being  right  off  the  land  the  skipper 
was  hugging  the  reef  as  closely  as  possible,  so  as  to 
bring  up  and  anchor  on  a  five-fathom  patch  about  a 
mile  away. 

"Here,  quit  that  fooling,"  he  called  out  to  the 
supercargo,  "  and  come  aft,  you  fellows !  The  ship 
is  that  much  down  by  the  head  she  won't  pay  off, 
with  the  helm  hard  up." 

One  look  at  the  crowd  of  natives  and  another  at  the 
shore,  and  a  wild  idea  came  into  Lannigan's  head. 
He  whispered  to  Tariro,  who  went  up  for'ard  and  said 
something  to  the  natives.  In  another  ten  seconds 
some  of  them  began  to  clamber  out  on  the  jib-boom, 
the  rest  after  them. 

*'  Come  back  !  "  yelled  the  skipper,  jamming  the 
helm  hard  up,  as  the  schooner  flew  up  into  the  wind. 
"  Leggo  peak  halyards.  By  G — d  !  we  are  running 
ashore.     Leggo  throat  halyards,  too  !  " 


A  Tale  of  a  Mask.  235 

The  mate  flew  to  the  halyards,  and  let  go  first  the 
peak  and  then  the  throat  halyards,  but  it  was  too  late, 
and,  with  a  swarm  of  natives  packed  together  for'ard 
from  the  galley  to  the  end  of  the  jib-boom,  she  stuck 
her  nose  down,  and,  with  stern  high  out  of  the  water, 
like  a  duck  chasing  flies,  she  crashed  into  the  reef — 
ran  ashore  dead  to  windward. 


No  one  was  drowned.  The  natives  took  good  care 
of  the  captain,  mate,  and  supercargo,  and  helped  them 
to  save  all  they  could.  But  Lannigan  had  a  heavy 
loss — the  bag  of  copper  bolts  had  gone  to  the  bottom. 


THE  COOK  OF  THE  "SPREETOO 
SANTOO" 


The  Cook  of  the  "  Spreetoo  SantooT 

A   STUDY   IN    BEACHCOMBERS. 

We  were  in  Kitti  Harbour,  at  Ponape,  in  the  Caro- 
lines, when,  at  breakfast,  a  bleary-eyed,  undersized, 
more-or-less-white  man  in  a  dirty  pink  shirt  and 
dungaree  pants,  came  below,  and,  slinging  his  filthy 
old  hat  over  to  the  transoms,  shoved  himself  into  a 
seat  between  the  mate  and  Jim  Garstang,  the  trader. 

''  Mornin',  captin,"  said  he,  without  looking  at  the 
skipper,  and  helping  himself  to  about  two  pounds  of 
curry. 

*'  Morning  to  you.  Who  the  deuce  are  you,  any- 
way ?  Are  you  the  old  bummer  they  call  '  Espiritu 
Santo '  ?  "  said  Garstang. 

"That's  me.  I'm  the  man.  But  I  ain't  no 
bummer,  don't  you  b'lieve  it.  I  wos  tradin'  round 
here  in  these  (lurid)  islands  afore  you  coves  knowed 
where  Ponape  was." 

"Are  you  the  skunk  that  Wardell  kicked  off  the 
Shenandoah  for  stealing  a  bottle  of  wine  ?  "  said  the 
mate. 

"  That's  me.  There  was  goin'  ter  be  trouble  over 
that  on'y  that  the  Shermydor  got  properly  well  sunk 
by  the  Allyharmer  (history  wasn't  his  forte),  and  that 


240           I'he  Cook  of  the  "  Spree  too  San  too.' 
Wardell  got  d d  well  drownded.     Hingland 


haint  a-goin'  to  let  no  Yankee  insult  nobody  for 
nuthin' — an'  I'm  a  blessed  Englishman.  I  didn't  steal 
the  wine.  Yer  see,  Wardell  arst  me  off  to  dinner, 
and  then  we  gets  talkin'  about  polertics,  an'  I  tells  'im 
'e  wos  a  lyin'  pirut.  Then  he  started  fooHn'  around 
my  woman,  an'  I  up  with  a  bottle  of  wine  an' " 

"Why,  you  thundering  liar,"  said  Garstang,  "you 
stole  it  out  of  the  ward-room." 

"  I  wouldn't  call  no  man  a  liar  if  I  was  you.  Mister 

— by  G ^  that   Chinaman    cook   knows   how  to 

make  curry." 

He  ate  like  a  starving  shark,  and  between  mouthfuls 
kept  up  a  running  fire  of  lies  and  blasphemy.  When 
he  had  eaten  three  platefuls  of  curry  and  drunk  enough 
cofFee  to  scald  a  pig,  the  skipper,  who  was  gettin'  tired 
of  him,  asked  him  if  he  had  had  enough. 

Yes,  he  had  had  enough  breakfest  to  last  him  a 
whole  (Australian  adjective)  week. 

"  Then  clear  out  on  deck  and  swab  the  curry  off 
your  face,  you  beast !  " 

"  That's  always  the  way  with  you  tradin'  skippers. 
A  stranger  don't  get  no  civility  unless  he  comes 
aboard  in  a  (red-painted)  gig  with  a  (crimson) 
umbrella  and  a  (gory)  'elmet  'at,  like  a  (vermilion) 
Consul." 

The  mate  seized  him,  and,  running  him  up  the 
companion  way,  slung  him  out  on  deck. 

•  •  •  •  • 

"  What  do  you  think  of  him  ?  "  asked  the  skipper, 
a  man  fond  of  a  joke — it  was  Bully  Hayes.  "  I 
thought  I'd  let  you  all  make  his  acquaintance.  He's 
been  bumming  around  the  Ladrones  and  Pelews  since 


The  Cook  of  the  "  Spreetoo  Santoo."  24 1 

'50 ;  used  to  be  cook  on  a  Manilla  trading  brig,  the 
Espiritu  Santo^'* 

Then  he  told  us  how  this  wandering  mass  of  blas- 
phemy got  his  name  of  "Spreetoo  Santoo."  While 
in  the  brig  he  had  been  caught  smuggling  at  Guam 
by  the  guarda  costas,  and  had  spent  a  year  or  two  in 
the  old  prison  fort  at  San  Juan  de  'Apra.  (I  don't 
know  how  he  got  out :  perhaps  his  inherently  alcoholic 
breath  and  lurid  blasphemy  made  the  old  brick  wall 
tumble  down,) 

After  that  he  was  always  welcome  in  sailors'  fo'c's'les 
by  reason  of  his  smuggling  story,  which  would  com- 
mence with — "When  I  was  cook  on  the  Espiritu 
Santo^^  (only  he  used  the  English  instead  of  the 
Spanish  name)  "  I  got  jugged  by  the  gory  gardy 
costers,"  &c.,  &c. 

•        .       •  •  •  • 

When  we  came  on  deck  he  was  sitting  on  the 
main-hatch  with  the  Chinese  carpenter — whose  pipe 
he  was  smoking — and  telling  him  that  he  ought  to 
get  rid  of  his  native  wife,  who  was  a  Gilbert  Island 
girl,  and  buy  a  Ponape  girl. 

"  I  can  git  yer  the  pick  o'  the  (crimson)  island,  an* 
it  won't  cost  yer  more'n  a  few  (unprintable)  dollars. 
I'm  a  (bad  word)  big  man  'ere  among  the  (adjective) 
natives." 

Hung  looked  up  at  him  stolidly  with  half-closed 
eyes.  Then  he  took  the  pipe  out  of  his  mouth  and 
said  in  a  deadly  cold  voice — 

"  You  palally  liar,  Spleetoo." 

He  slouched  aft  again  presently,  and  asked  the  mate, 
17 


242  T^he  Cook  of  the  "  Spreetoo  Santoo.^* 

in  an  amiable  tone  of  voice,  if  he  had  "any  (ruddy) 
noospapers  from  Sydney." 

*'  What  the  devil  do  you  -wznt  new^spapers  for  ? " 
inquired  Hayes,  turning  round  suddenly  in  his  deck- 
chair,  "you  can't  read,  Spreetoo." 

"Can't  read,  eh?"  and  his  red-rimmed,  lashless  eyes 
simulated  intense  indignation.  "Wot  about  that  'ere 
(red)  bishop  at  Manilla,  as  wanted  me  to  chuck  up  me 
(scarlet)  billet  on  the  Spreetoo  Santoo  and  travel  through 
the  (carnaged)  CarryHne  Grewp  as  's  (sanguinary) 
sekketerry  ?  'Cos  why  ?  'Cos  there  ain't  any  (blank) 
man  atween  'ere  an'  'ell  as  can  talk  the  warious 
lingoes  like  me." 

"Here,"  said  the  mate,  giving  him  two  or  three  old 
A'laoriland  newspapers — "here's  some  Auckland  papers. 
Know  anybody  there  ?  " 

"  No,"  he  answered,  promptly,  "  not  a  soul,  but  he 
knowed  Sydney  well.  Larst  time  I  wos  there  I  sold 
old  Bobby  Towns  ^6,000  worth  of  oil — a  bloomin' 
shipful.  I  got  drunk,  an'  a  (blank)  policeman  went 
through  me  in  the  cell  and  took  the  whole  blessed 
lot  outer  me  (scarlet)  pocket."  (Nine  bad  words 
omitted.) 

"  Bank  notes  ?  "  queried  Bully. 

"  No,  sov'reigns — (gory)  sov'reigns." 

He  asked  us  if  we  had  seen  any  men-o'-war  about 

lately,  and  said  that  the  captain  of  H.M.S. had 

wanted  to  marry  his  daughter,  but  he  wouldn't  let 
her  marry  no   man-o'-war    cove   after  the  way  that 

Wardell    had    treated    him.      He   thought    he 

would  go  back  to  Sydney  again  for  a  spell.  His 
brother  had  a  flaming:  fine  billet  there. 


The  Cook  of  the  *^  Spreetoo  Santoo."  243 

"  What  is  he  ?  "  asked  Hayes. 

"'E's  a  (blessed)  Soopreme  Court  Judge,  wears  a 
(gory)  wig  big  enough  to  make  chafin'  gear  for  a 
(crimson)  fleet  o'  ships ;  'e  lives  at  Guvment  'Ouse, 
and  'e's  rollin'  in  money  an'  drinks  like  a  (carmine) 
fish.     I   thought    I  might   see   somethin'  about   the 

in  a  (blank)  Sydney  noospaper.     I'll  come  in  for 

all  his  (ensanguined)  money  when  'e  dies." 

Bully  gave  him  a  bottle  of  gin  after  a  while. 
Then  he  hurriedly  bade  us  farewell  and  went 
ashore. 


LUPTON'S    GUEST:    A    MEMORY 
OF  THE  EASTERN  PACIFIC 


Luptons  Guest :  a  Memory  of  the 
Eastern  Pacific, 

A  LONG  sweeping  curve  of  coast,  fringed  with  tall 
plumed  palms  casting  wavering  shadows  on  the  yellow 
sand  as  they  sway  and  swish  softly  to  the  breath  of 
the  brave  trade- wind  that  whistles  through  the  thickly- 
verdured  hummocks  on  the  weather  side  of  the  island, 
to  die  away  into  a  soft  breath  as,  after  passing  through 
the  belt  of  cocoanuts,  it  faintly  ripples  the  transparent 
depths  of  the  lagoon — a  broad  sheet  of  blue  and  silver 
stretching  away  from  the  far  distant  western  line  of 
reef  to  the  smooth,  yellow  beach  at  the  foot  of  the 
palms  on  the  easternmost  islet.  And  here,  beneath 
their  lofty  crowns,  are  the  brown  thatched  huts  of  the 
people  and  the  home  of  Lupton  the  trader. 

This  is  Mururea.  And,  if  it  be  possible,  Mururea 
surpasses  in  beauty  any  other  of  the  "cloud  of 
islands "  which,  lying  on  the  blue  bosom  of  the 
Eastern  Pacific  like  the  islands  of  a  dream,  are  called 
by  their  people  the  Paumotu.  And  these  people — it 
is  not  of  very  long  ago  I  speak — are  a  people  unto 
themselves.  Shy  and  suspicious  of  strangers,  white 
or  brown,  and  endued  with  that  quick  instinct  of  fear 


248  Luptorfs  Guest: 

which  impels  untutored  minds  to  slay,  and  which  we, 
in  our  civilised  ignorance,  call  savage  treachery,  they 
are  yet  kind-hearted  and  hospitable  to  those  who 
learn  their  ways  and  regard  their  customs.  A  tall, 
light-skinned,  muscular  people,  the  men  with  long, 
straight,  black  hair,  coiled  up  in  a  knot  at  the  back, 
and  the  women — the  descendants  of  those  who  sailed 
with  broken  Fletcher  Christian  and  his  comrades  of 
the  Bounty  in  quest  of  a  place  where  to  die — soft- 
voiced,  and  with  big,  timorous  eyes. 

'Twas  here  that  Ben  Peese,  the  handsome,  savagely 
humorous,  and  voluble  colleague  of  Captain  "  Bully" 
Hayes,  the  modern  rover  of  the  South  Seas,  one  day 
appeared.  Lupton,  with  his  son  and  two  natives, 
were  out  searching  the  beach  of  a  little  islet  for 
turtles'  eggs,  when  the  boy,  who  bad  been  sent  to 
obtain  a  few  young  drinking  cocoanuts  from  a  tree 
some  little  distance  away,  called  out,  "  Te  Pahi !  "  (a 
ship).  A  few  minutes  passed,  and  then,  outlined 
against  the  narrow  strip  of  cocoanuts  that  grew  on 
the  north  end  of  the  main  islet  of  the  lagoon,  Lupton 
saw  the  sails  of  a  schooner  making  for  the  only 
opening — a  narrow  passage  on  the  eastern  side. 

Now  vessels  came  but  rarely  to  Mururea,  for  Du 
Petit  Thouars,  the  French  Admiral  of  the  Pacific 
fleet,  had  long  since  closed  the  group  to  the  Sydney 
trading  ships  that  once  came  there  for  pearl-shell,  and 
Lupton  felt  uneasy.  The  vessel  belonging  to  the 
Tahitian  firm,  for  whom  he  traded  was  not  due  for 
many  months.  Could  the  stranger  be  that  wandering 
Ishmael  of  the  sea — Peese  ?  Only  he — or  his  equally 
daring   and   dreaded   colleague.  Bully  Hayes — would 


a  Memory  of  the   'Eastern  Pacific.  249 

dare  to  sail  a  vessel  of  any  size  in  among  the  coral 
"  mushrooms  "  that  studded  the  current-swept  waters 
of  the  dangerous  passage. 

What  did  he  want  ?  And  honest  Frank  Lupton, 
a  quiet  and  industrious  trader,  thought  of  his  store  of 
pearl-shell  and  felt  still  more  doubtful.  And  he  knew 
Peese  so  well,  the  dapper,  handsome  little  Englishman 
with  the  pleasant  voice  that  had  in  it  always  a  ripple 
of  laughter — the  voice  and  laugh  that  concealed  his 
tigerish  heart  and  savage  vindictiveness.  Lupton  had 
children  too — sons  and  daughters — and  Peese,  who 
looked  upon  women  as  mere  articles  of  merchandise, 
would  have  thought  no  more  of  carrying  off  the 
trader's  two  pretty  daughters  than  he  would  of 
"taking"  a  cask  of  oil  or  a  basket  of  pearl-shell. 

His  anxious  face,  paling  beneath  the  tropic  bronze 
of  twenty  years'  ocean  wanderings,  betrayed  his 
feelings  to  the  two  natives  who  were  now  pulling 
the  boat  with  all  their  strength  to  gain  the  village, 
and  one — Maora,  his  wife's  brother,  a  big,  light- 
skinned  man,  with  that  keen,  hawk-like  visage 
peculiar  to  the  people  of  the  eastern  islands  of 
Polynesia,  said — 

"  'Tis  an  evil  day,  Farani  !  No  ship  but  that  of 
the  Little  Man  with  the  Beard  hath  ever  passed  into 
the  lagoon  since  the  great  English  fighting  ship  came 
inside"  (he  spoke  of  1863),  "  for  the  reef  hath  grown 
and  spread  out  and  nearly  closed  it.  Only  the  Little 
Bearded  Devil  would  dare  it,  for  he  hath  been  here 
twice  with  the  Man  of  the  Strong  Hand"  (Hayes). 
"And,  Farani,  listen!     'The  hand  to  the  club!'" 

They  ceased  pulling.     From  the  village  came  the 


250  Lupton's  Guest: 

sound  of  an  almost  forgotten  cry — a  signal  of  danger 
to  the  dwellers  under  the  palms — "  The  hand  to  the 
club  !  " — meaning  for  the  men  to  arm. 


Lupton  hesitated.  The  natives  would,  he  knew, 
stand  to  him  to  a  man  if  violence  to  or  robbery  of 
him  were  attempted.  But  to  gain  the  village  he 
must  needs  pass  close  the  vessel,  and  to  pass  on  and 
not  board  her  would  savour  of  cowardice — and  Lupton 
was  an  Englishman,  and  his  twenty  years'  wanderings 
among  the  dangerous  people  of  some  of  the  islands 
of  the  Paumotu  Group  had  steeled  his  nerves  to  meet 
any  danger  or  emergency.  So,  without  altering  the 
course  of  the  boat,  he  ran  alongside  of  the  vessel — 
which  was  a  brigantine — ^just  as  she  was  bringing  to, 
and  looking  up,  he  saw  the  face  he  expected. 

"  How  are  you,  Lupton,  my  dear  fellow  ? "  said 
Peese,  as  the  trader  gained  the  deck,  wringing  his 
hand  effusively,  as  if  he  were  a  long-lost  brother. 
"  By  Heavens  !  I'm  glad  to  meet  a  countryman 
again,  and  that  countryman  Frank  Lupton.  Don't 
like  letting  your  hand  go."  And  still  grasping  the 
trader's  rough  hand  in  his,  delicate  and  smooth  as  a 
woman's,  he  beamed  upon  him  with  an  air  of  infantile 
pleasure. 

•  •  •  •  • 

This  was  one  of  Peese's  peculiarities — an  affectation 
of  absolute  affection  for  any  Englishman  he  met, 
from  the  captain  of  a  man-of-war  (these,  however,  he 
avoided  as  much  as  possible),  to  a  poor  beachcomber 
with  but  a  grass  girdle  round  his  loins. 

"  What    brings    you   here,  Captain    Peese  ?  "    said 


a  Memory  of  the   'Eastern  Pacific.  251 

Lupton,  bluntly,  as  his  eye  sought  the  village,  and 
saw  the  half-naked  figures  of  his  native  following 
leaving  his  house  in  pairs,  each  carrying  between  them 
a  square  box,  and  disappearing  into  the  puka  scrub. 
It  was  his  pearl-shell.  Mameri,  his  wife,  had  scented 
danger,  and  the  shell  at  least  was  safe,  however  it 
befell.  Peese's  glance  followed  his,  and  the  handsome 
little  captain  laughed,  and  slapped  the  gloomy-faced 
and  suspicious  trader  on  the  back  with  an  air  ot 
camaraderie. 

"  My  dear  fellow,  what  an  excessively  suspicious 
woman  your  good  Mameri  is  !  But  do  not  be 
alarmed.  I  have  not  come  here  to  do  any  business 
this  time,  but  to  land  a  passenger,  and  as  soon  as  his 
traps  are  on  the  beach  I'm  off  again  to  Maga  R^eva. 
Such  are  the  exigencies,  my  dear  Lupton,  of  a  trading 
captain's  life  in  the  South  Seas,  I  cannot  even  spare 
the  time  to  go  on  shore  with  you  and  enjoy  the 
hospitality  of  the  good  Mameri  and  your  two  feir 
daughters.  But  come  below  with  me  and  see  my 
passenger."     And  he  led  the  way  to  his  cabin. 

The  passenger's  appearance,  so  Lupton  told  me, 
"  was  enough  to  make  a  man's  blood  curdle,"  so 
ghastly  pale  and  emaciated  was  he.  He  rose  as 
Lupton  entered  and  extended  his  hand. 

"  My  friend  here,"  said  the  worthy  little  Ishmael, 
bowing  and  caressing  his  long  silky  beard,  "is,  ah, 
hum,  Mr.  Brown.  He  is,  as  you  will  observe,  my 
dear  Lupton,  in  a  somewhat  weak  state  of  health,  and 
is  in  search  of  some  retired  spot  where  he  may 
recuperate  sufficiently " 

"  Don't  lie  unnecessarily,  sir.** 


252  Lupton*s  Guest: 

Peese  bowed  affably  and  smiled,  and  the  stranger 
addressed  Lupton. 

"My  name  is  not  Brown — 'tis  of  no  consequence 
what  it  is  ;  but  I  am,  indeed,  as  you  see,  in  a  bad 
way,  with  but  a  few  months  at  most  to  live.  Captain 
Peese,  at  my  request,  put  into  this  lagoon.  He  has 
told  me  that  the  place  is  seldom  visited  by  ships,  and 
that  the  people  do  not  care  about  strangers.  Yet,  have 
you,  Mr.  Lupton,  any  objections  to  my  coming  ashore 
here,  and  living  out  the  rest  of  my  life  ?  I  have 
trade  goods  sufficient  for  all  requirements,  and  will  in 
no  way  interfere  with  or  become  a  charge  upon 
you." 

Lupton  considered.  His  influence  with  the  people 
of  Mururea  was  such  that  he  could  easily  overcome 
their  objections  to  another  white  man  landing  ;  but 
he  had  lived  so  long  apart  from  all  white  associations 
that  he  did  not  care  about  having  the  even  monotony 
of  his  life  disturbed.  And  then,  he  thought,  it  might 
be  some  queer  game  concocted  between  the  sick  man 
and  the  chattering  little  sea-hawk  that  sat  beside  him 
stroking  and  fondling  his  flowing  beard.  He  was 
about  to  refuse  when  the  sunken,  eager  eyes  of  "Mr. 
Brown "  met  his  in  an  almost  appealing  look  that 
disarmed  him  of  all  further  suspicion. 

"  Very  well,  sir.  The  island  is  as  free  to  you  as  to 
me.  But,  still,  I  could  stop  any  one  else  from  living 
here  if  I  wished  to  do  so.  But  you  do  look  very  ill, 
no  mistake  about  that.  And,  then,  you  ain't  going 
to  trade  against  me  !  And  I  suppose  you'll  pass  me 
your  word  that  there  isn't  any  dodge  between  you 
and  the  captain  here  to  bone  my  shell  and  clear 
out  ?  " 


a  Memory  of  the   'Eastern  Pacific.  253 

For  answer  the  sick  man  opened  a  despatch-box 
that  lay  on  the  cabin  table,  and  took  from  it  a  bag  ot 
money. 

•  •  •  • 

"This,"  he  said,  "is  the  sum  I  agreed  to  pay 
Captain  Peese  to  land  me  on  ^ny  island  of  my  choice 
in  the  Paumotu  Archipelago,  and  this  unsigned  order 
here  is  in  his  favour  on  the  Maison  Brander  of  Tahiti 
for  a  similar  sum." 

Signing  the  paper  he  pushed  it  with  the  money  over 
to  Peese,  and  then  went  on  : — 

"  I  assure  you,  Mr.  Lupton,  that  this  is  the  only 
transaction  I  have  ever  had  with  Captain  Peese.  I 
came  to  him  in  Tahiti,  hearing  he  was  bound  to  the 
Paumotu  Group.  I  had  never  heard  of  him  before, 
and  after  to-day  I  will  not,  in  all  human  probability, 
see  him  again." 

"  Perfectly  correct,  my  dear  sir,"  said  Peese. 
"  And  now,  as  our  business  is  finished,  perhaps  our 
dear  friend,  Lupton,  will  save  me  the  trouble  of 
lowering  a  boat  by  taking  you  ashore  in  his  own, 
which  is  alongside." 

Five  minutes  later  and  Lupton  and  the  stranger 
were  seated  in  the  boat. 

"  Good-bye,  my  dear  Lupton,  and  adios  my  dear 
Mr.  Brown.  I  shall  ever  remember  our  pleasant 
relations  on  board  my  humble  little  trading  vessel," 
cried  the  renowned  Peese,  who,  from  former 
associations,  had  a  way  of  drifting  into  the  Spanish 
tongue — and  prisons  and  fetters — which  latter  he  once 
wore  for  many  a  weary  day  on  the  cruiser  Hernandez 
Pizarro  on  his  way  to  the  gloomy  prison  of  Manilla. 

The  boat  had  barely  traversed  half  the  distance  to 


254  Lupton's  Guest: 

the  shore  ere  the  brigantine's  anchor  was  hove-up  and 
at  her  bows,  and  then  Peese,  with  his  usual  cool 
assurance,  beat  her  through  the  intricate  passage  and 
stood  out  into  the  long  roll  of  the  Pacific. 

When  Lupton,  with  his  "  walking  bone  bag,"  as 
he  mentally  called  the  stranger,  entered  his  house, 
Mameri,  his  bulky  native  wife,  uttered  an  exclamation 
of  pity,  and  placing  a  chair  before  him  uttered  the 
simple  word  of  welcome  lorana  !  and  the  daughters, 
with  wonder-lit  star-like  eyes,  knelt  beside  their 
father's  chair  and  whispered,  "  Who  is  he,  Farani  ?  " 

And  Lupton  could  only  answer,  "I  don't  know,  and 
won't  ask.     Look  to  him  well." 

He  never  did  ask.  One  afternoon  nearly  a  year 
afterwards,  as  Lupton  and  Trenton,  the  supercargo  of 
the  Marama^  sat  on  an  old  native  marae  at  Arupahi, 
the  Village  of  Four  Houses,  he  told  the  strange  story 
of  his  sick  guest. 

The  stranger  had  at  first  wished  to  have  a  house 
built  for  himself,  but  Lupton's  quiet  place  and  the  shy 
and  reserved  natures  of  his  children  made  him  change 
his  intention  and  ask  Lupton  for  a  part  of  his  house. 
It  was  given  freely — where  are  there  more  generous- 
hearted  men  than  these  world-forgotten,  isolated 
traders  ? — and  here  the  Silent  Man,  as  the  people  of 
Mururea  called  him,  lived  out  the  few  months  of  his 
life.  That  last  deceptive  stage  of  his  insidious 
disease  had  given  him  a  fictitious  strength.  On  many 
occasions,  accompanied  by  the  trader's  children,  he 
would  walk  to  the  north  point  of  the  low-lying 
island,  where  the   cloudy   spume  of   the   surge  was 


a  Memory  of  the   'Eastern  Pacific.  255 

thickest  and  where  the  hollow  and  resonant  crust  of 
the  black  reef  was  perforated  with  countless  air-holes, 
through  which  the  water  hissed  and  roared,  and  shot 
high  in  air,  to  fall  again  in  misty  spray. 

And  here,  with  dreamy  eyes,  he  would  sit  under 
the  shade  of  a  clump  of  young  cocoanuts,  and  watch 
the  boil  and  tumble  of  the  surf,  whilst  the  children 
played  with  and  chased  each  other  about  the  clinking 
sand.  Sometimes  he  would  call  them  to  him — Farani 
the  boy,  and  Teremai  and  Lorani,  the  sweet-voiced 
and  tender-eyed  girls — and  ask  them  to  sing  to  him  ; 
and  in  their  soft  semi-Tahitian  dialect  they  would 
sing  the  old  songs  that  echoed  in  the  ears  of  the 
desperate  men  of  the  Bounty  that  fatal  dawn  when, 
with  bare-headed,  defiant  Bligh  drifting  astern  in  his 
boat,  they  headed  back  for  Tahiti  and  death. 

Four  months  had  passed  when  one  day  the  strange 
white  man,  with  Lupton's  children,  returned  to  the 
village.  As  they  passed  in  through  the  doorway  with 
some  merry  chant  upon  their  lips,  they  saw  a  native 
seated  on  the  matted  floor.  He  was  a  young  man, 
with  straight,  handsome  features,  such  as  one  may  see 
any  day  in  Eastern  Polynesia,  but  the  children,  with 
terrified  faces,  shrank  aside  as  they  passed  him  and 
went  to  their  father. 

The  pale  face  of  the  Silent  Man  turned  inquiringly 
to  Lupton,  who  smiled. 

"'Tis  Mameri's  teaching,  you  know.  She  is  a 
Catholic  from  Magareva,  and  prays  and  tells  her  beads 
enough  to  work  a  whaleship's  crew  into  heaven. 
But  this  man  is  a  '  Soul  Catcher,'  and  if  any  one  of 
us  here  got  sick,  Mameri  would  let  the  faith  she  was 


256  Lupton^s  Guest: 

reared  in  go  to  the  wall  and  send  for  the  *Soul  Catcher.* 
He's  a  kind  of  an  all-round  prophet,  wizard,  and 
general  wisdom  merchant.  Took  over  the  soul- 
catching  business  from  his  father — runs  in  the  family, 
you  know." 

"  Ah  !  "  said  the  Silent  Man  in  his  low,  languid  tones, 
looking  at  the  native,  who,  the  moment  he  had  entered, 
had  bent  his  eyes  to  the  ground,  "  and  in  which  of  his 
manifold  capacities  has  he  come  to  see  you,  Lupton  ?  " 

Lupton  hesitated  a  moment,  then  laughed. 

"  Well,  sir,  he  says  he  wants  to  speak  to  you. 
Wants  to  pahihi  (talk  rot),  I  suppose.  It's  his  trade, 
you  know.  I'd  sling  him  out  only  that  he  isn't  a  bad 
sort  of  a  fellow — and  a  bit  mad — and  Mameri  says 
he'll  quit  as  soon  as  he  has  had  his  say." 

"  Let  him  talk,"  said  the  calm,  quiet  voice  ;  "  I  like 
these  people,  and  like  to  hear  them  talk — better  than  I 
would  most  white  men." 

Then,  with  his  dark,  dilated  eyes  moving  from  the 
pale  face  of  the  white  man  to  that  of  Lupton,  the 
native  wizard  and  Seer  of  Unseen  Things  spoke. 
Then  again  his  eyes  sought  the  ground. 

"  What  does  he  say  ?  "  queried  Lupton's  guest. 

"  D rot,"  replied  the  trader,  angrily. 

"  Tell  me  exactly,  if  you  please.     I  feel  interested." 

"Well,  he  says  that  he  was  asleep  in  his  house  when 
his  *  spirit  voice  '  awoke  him  and  said  " — here  Lupton 
paused  and  looked  at  his  guest,  and  then,  seeing  the 
faint  smile  of  amused  interest  on  his  melancholy  fea- 
tures, resumed,  in  his  rough,  jocular  way — "and  said 
— the  *  spirit  voice,'  you  know — that  your  soul  was 
struggling  to  get  loose,  and  is  going  away  from  you 


a  Memory  of  the  Eastern  Pacific.  i^rj 

to-night.  And  the  long  and  short  of  it  is  that  this 
young  fellow  here  wants  to  know  if  you'll  let  him  save 
it — keep  you  from  dying,  you  know.  Says  he'll  do 
the  job  for  nothing,  because  you're  a  good  man,  and  a 
friend  to  all  the  people  of  Mururea." 

"  Mr.  Brown  "  put  his  thin  hand  across  his  mouth, 
and  his  eyes  smiled  at  Lupton.  Then  some  sudden, 
violent  emotion  stirred  him,  and  he  spoke  with  such 
quick  and  bitter  energy  that  Lupton  half  rose  from  his 
seat  in  vague  alarm. 

*'Tell  him,"  he  said — "  that  is,  if  the  language  ex- 
presses it — that  my  soul  has  been  in  hell  these  ten 
years,  and  its  place  filled  with  ruined  hopes  and  black 
despair,"  and  then  he  sank  back  on  his  couch  of  mats, 
and  turned  his  face  to  the  wall. 

The  Seer  of  Unseen  Things,  at  a  sign  from  the  now 
angry  Lupton,  rose  to  his  feet.  As  he  passed  the 
trader  he  whispered — 

"  Be  not  angry  with  me,  Farani ;  art  not  thou  and 
all  thy  house  dear  to  me,  the  Snarer  of  Souls  and 
Keeper  Away  of  Evil  Things  ?  And  I  can  truly 
make  a  snare  to  save  the  soul  of  the  Silent  Man,  if  he 
so  wishes  it."  The  low,  impassioned  tones  of  the 
wizard's  voice  showed  him  to  be  under  strong  emotion, 
and  Lupton,  with  smoothened  brow,  placed  his  hand 
on  the  native's  chest  in  token  of  amity. 

"  Farani,"  said  the  wizard,  "  see'st  thou  these  ?  "  and 
he  pointed  to  where,  in  the  open  doorway,  two  large 
white  butterflies  hovered  and  fluttered.  They  were  a 
species  but  rarely  seen  in  Mururea,  and  the  natives  had 
many  curious  superstitions  regarding  them. 

"  Aye,"  said  the  trader,  "  what  of  them  ?  " 

"  Lo,  they  are  the  spirits  that  await  the  soul  of  him 
i8 


258  LiUptoii s  Guest: 

who  sitteth  in  thy  house.  One  is  the  soul  of  a  woman, 
the  other  of  a  man  ;  and  their  bodies  are  long  ago  dust 
in  a  far-off  land.  See,  Farani,  they  hover  and  wait, 
wait,  wait.  To-morrow  they  will  be  gone,  but  then 
another  may  be  with  them." 

Stopping  at  the  doorway  the  tall  native  turned,  and 
again  his  strange,  full  black  eyes  fixed  upon  the  figure 
of  Lupton's  guest.  Then  slowly  he  untied  from  a 
circlet  of  polished  pieces  of  pearl-shell  strung  together 
round  his  sinewy  neck  a  little  round  leaf-wrapped 
bundle.  And  with  quiet  assured  step  he  came  and  stood 
before  the  strange  white  man  and  extended  his  hand. 

"  Take  it,  O  man,  with  the  swift  hand  and  the 
strong  heart,  for  it  is  thine." 

And  then  he  passed  slowly  out. 

Lupton  could  only  see  that  as  the  outside  wrappings 
of  fala  leaves  fell  off  they  revealed  a  black  substance, 
when  Mr.  Brown  quickly  placed  it  in  the  bosom  of 
his  shirt. 

.  •  •  •  • 

"And  sure  enough,"  continued  Lupton,  knocking 
the  ashes  from  his  pipe  out  upon  the  crumbling  stones 
of  the  old  marae,  and  speaking  in,  for  him,  strangely 
softened  tones,  "  the  poor  chap  did  die  that  night, 
leastways  at  kalaga  moa  (cockcrow),  and  then  he  refilled 
his  pipe  in  silence,  gazing  the  while  away  out  to  the 
North-West  Point." 

•  •  •  •  • 

"  What  a  curious  story  ! "  began  the  supercargo,  after 
an  interval  of  some  minutes,  when  he  saw  that  Lupton, 
usually  one  of  the  merriest-hearted  wanderers  that  rove 
to  and  fro  in  Polynesia,  seemed  strangely  silent  and 
affected,  and  had  turned  his  face  from  him. 


a  Memory  of  the  Eastern  Pacific.  259 

He  waited  in  silence  till  the  trader  chose  to  speak 
again. 

Away  to  the  westward,  made  purple  by  the  sunset 

haze  of  the  tropics,  lay  the  ever-hovering  spume-cloud 

of  the  reef  of  North- West  Point — the  loved  haunt  of 

Lupton's  guest — and  the  muffled  boom  of  the  ceaseless 

surf  deepened  now  and  then  as  some  mighty  roller 

tumbled  and  crashed  upon  the  flat  ledges  of  blackened 

reef. 

•  •  •  •  • 

At  last  the  trader  turned  again  to  the  supercargo, 
almost    restored    to    his    usual    equanimity.     "  I'm    a 

pretty  rough  case,  Mr. ,  and  not  much  given  to 

any  kind  of  sentiment  or  squirming,  but  I  would  give 
half  I'm  worth  to  have  him  back  again.  He  sort  of 
got  a  pull  on  my  feelin's  the  first  time  he  ever  spoke 
to  me,  and  as  the  days  went  on,  I  took  to  him  that 
much  that  if  he'd  a  wanted  to  marry  my  little  Teremai 
I'd  have  given  her  to  him  cheerful.  Not  that  we  ever 
done  much  talkin',  but  he'd  sit  night  after  night  and 
make  me  talk,  and  when  I'd  spun  a  good  hour's  yarn 
he'd  only  say,  '  Thank  you,  Lupton,  good-night,'  and 
give  a  smile  all  round  to  us,  from  old  Mameri  to  the 
youngest  tama^  and  go  to  bed.  And  yet  he  did  a 
thing  that'll  go  hard  agin'  him,  I  fear." 

"  Ah,"  said  Trenton,  "  and  so  he  told  you  at 
the  last — I  mean  his  reason  for  coming  to  die  at 
Mururea." 

"  No,  he  didn't.  He  only  told  me  something  ; 
Peese  told  me  the  rest.  And  he  laughed  when  he 
told  me,"  and  the  dark-faced  trader  struck  his  hand 
on  his  knee.  "  Peese  would  laugh  if  he  saw  his 
mother  crucified." 


26o  Luptorfs  Guest: 

"  Was  Peese  back  here  again,  then  ? "  inquired 
Trenton. 

"  Yes,  two  months  ago.  He  hove-to  outside,  and 
came  ashore  in  a  canoe.  Said  he  wanted  to  hear  how 
his  dear  friend  Brown  was.  He  only  stayed  an  hour, 
and  then  cleared  out  again." 

"  Did  he  die  suddenly  ?  "  the  supercargo  asked,  his 
mind  still  bent  on  Lupton's  strange  visitor. 

"  No.  Just  before  daylight  he  called  me  to  him — 
with  my  boy.  He  took  the  boy's  hand  and  said  he'd 
have  been  glad  to  have  lived  after  all.  He  had  been 
happy  in  a  way  with  me  and  the  children  here  in 
Mururea.  Then  he  asked  to  see  Teremai  and  Lorani. 
They  both  cried  when  they  saw  he  was  a  goin' — all 
native-blooded  people  do  that  if  they  cares  anything 
at  all  about  a  white  man,  and  sees  him  dyin'." 

"  Have  you  any  message,  or  anything  to  say  in 
writin',  sir  ?  "  I  says  to  him. 

He  didn't  answer  at  once,  only  took  the  girls' 
hands  in  his,  and  kisses  each  of  'em  on  the  face,  then 
he  says,  *'  No,  Lupton,  neither.  But  send  the  children 
away  now.  I  want  you  to  stay  with  me  to  the  last — 
which  will  be  soon." 

Then  he  put  his  hand  under  his  pillow,  and  took 
out  a  tiny  little  parcel,  and  held  it  in  his  closed  hand. 

"Mr.  Lupton,  I  ask  you  before  God  to  speak 
honestly.  Have  you,  or  have  you  not,  ever  heard  of 
me,  and  why  I  came  here  to  die,  away  from  the  eyes 
of  men  ?  " 

"  No,  sir,"  I  said.  "  Before  God  I  know  no  more 
of  you  now  than  the  day  I  first  saw  you." 

*'  Can  you,  then,  tell  me  if  the  native  soul-doctor 


a  Memory  of  the  Eastern  Pacific.  261 

who  came  here  last  night  is  a  friend  of  Captain  Peese  ? 
Did  he  see  Peese  when  I  landed  here  ?  Has  he  talked 
with  him  ?  " 

"  No.  When  you  came  here  with  Peese,  the  soul- 
seer  was  away  at  another  island.  And  as  for  talking 
with  him,  how  could  he  ?  Peese  can't  speak  two 
words  of  Paumotu." 

He  closed  his  eyes  a  minute.  Then  he  reached  out 
his  hand  to  me  and  said,  "  Look  at  that ;  what  is  it  ? " 

It  was  the  little  black  thing  that  the  Man  Who 
Sees  Beyond  gave  him,  and  was  a  curious  affair 
altogether.  "  You  know  what  an  aitu  taliga  is  ?  " 
asked  Lupton. 

*'  Yes  i  a  '  devil's  ear ' — that's  what  the  natives  call 
fungus." 

•  •  •  •  • 

"  Well,"  continued  Lupton,  "  this  was  a  piece  of 
dried  fungus,  and  yet  it  wasn't  a  piece  of  fungus.  It 
was  the  exact  shape  of  a  human  heart — ^just  as  I've 
seen  a  model  of  it  made  of  wax.  That  hadn't  been 
its  natural  shape,  but  the  sides  had  been  brought 
together  and  stitched  with  human  hair — by  the  soul- 
doctor,  of  course.  I  looked  at  it  curiously  enough, 
and  gave  it  back  to  him.  His  fingers  closed  round  it 
again." 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  he  says  again. 

"  It's  a  model  of  a  human  heart,**  says  I,  "  made  of 
fungus." 

"  My  God  !  "  he  says,  ''  how  could  he  know  ?  " 
Then  he  didn't  say  any  more,  and  in  another  half- 
hour  or  so  he  dies,  quiet  and  gentlemanly  like.  I 
looked  for  the  heart  with  Mameri  in  the  morning — it 
was  gone. 


262  Lupton*s  Guest : 

**Well,   we   buried    him.     And   now   look    here, 

Mr. ,  as  sure  as  I  believe  there's  a  God  over  us, 

I  believe  that  that  native  soul-catcher  has  dealings 
with  the  Devil.  I  had  just  stowed  the  poor  chap  in 
his  coffin  and  was  going  to  nail  it  down  when  the 
kanaka  wizard  came  in,  walks  up  to  me,  and  says  he 
wants  to  see  the  dead  man's  hand.  Just  to  humour 
him   I  lifted  off  the  sheet.     The  soul-catcher  lifted 

the  dead  man's  hands  carefully,  and  then  I'm  d d 

if  he  didn't  lay  that  dried  heart  on  his  chest  and  press 
the  hands  down  over  it." 

"  What's  that  for  ?  "  says  I. 

"'Tis  the  heart  of  the  woman  he  slew  in  her  sleep. 
Let  it  lie  with  him,  so  that  there  may  be  peace 
between  them  at  last,"  and  then  he  glides  away 
without  another  word. 

"  I  let  it  stay,  not  thinking  much  of  it  at  the  time. 
Well,  as  I  was  tellin'  you,  Peese  came  again.  Seeing 
that  I  had  all  my  people  armed,  I  treated  him  well  and 
we  had  a  chat,  and  then  I  told  him  all  about  'Mr. 
Brown's '  death  and  the  soul-saver  and  the  dried  heart. 
And  then  Peese  laughs  and  gives  me  this  newspaper 
cutting.     I  brought  it  with  me  to  show  you." 

Trenton  took  the  piece  of  paper  and  read. 

**  *  Lester  Mornington  made  his  escape  from  the 
State  prison  at  San  Quentin  (Cal.)  last  week,  and  is 
stated  to  be  now  on  his  way  either  to  Honolulu  or 
Tahiti.  It  has  been  ascertained  that  a  vast  sum  of 
money  has  been  disbursed  in  a  very  systematic  manner 
during  the  last  few  weeks  to  effect  his  release. 
Although    nearly  eight   years   have  elapsed  since  he 


a  Memory  of  the    "Eastern  Pacific.  263 

committed  his  terrible  crime,  the  atrocious  nature  of 
it  will  long  be  remembered.  Young,  wealthy,  re- 
spected, and  talented,  he  had  been  married  but  half  a 
year  when  the  whole  of  the  Pacific  Slope  was  startled 
with  the  intelligence  that  he  had  murdered  his 
beautiful  young  wife,  who  had,  he  found,  been  dis- 
loyal to  him. 

"  *  Entering  the  bedroom  he  shot  his  sleeping  wife 
through  the  temples,  and  then  with  a  keen-edged 
knife  had  cut  out  her  still-beating  heart.  This, 
enclosed  in  a  small  box,  he  took  to  the  house  of  the 
man  who  had  wronged  him,  and  desired  him  to  open 
it  and  look  at  the  contents.  He  did  so,  and  Morning- 
ton,  barely  giving  him  time  to  realise  the  tragedy,  and 
that  his  perfidy  was  known,  shot  him  twice,  the 
wounds  proving  fatal  next  day.  The  murderer  made 
good  his  escape  to  Mexico,  only  returning  to  Cali- 
fornia a  month  ago,  when  he  was  recognised  (although 
disguised)  and  captured,  and  at  the  time  of  his  escape 
was  within  two  days  of  the  time  of  his  trial  before 
Judge  Crittenden.'" 

"There's  always  a  woman  in  these  things,"  said 
Lupton,  as  the  supercargo  gave  him  back  the  slip. 
"  Come  on." 

And  he  got  down  from  his  seat  on  the  wall. 
"There's  Mameri  calling  us  to  kaika'i — stewed 
pigeons.  She's  a  bully  old  cook  j  worth  her  weight 
in  Chile  dollars." 


IN  NOUMEA 


In   Noumea. 

Chester  was  listening  to  those  charming  musicians, 
the  convict  band,  playing  in  Noumea,  and  saw  in 
the   crowd   a  man  he    knew — more,   an   old    friend, 

S .     The    recognition    was   mutual  and  pleasing 

to  both.  They  had  not  met  for  six  years.  He  was 
then  chief  officer  of  a  China  steamer ;  now  he  was 
captain  of  a  big  tramp  steamer  that  had  called  in  to 
load  nickel  ore.  "  Who,"  exclaimed  Chester,  "  would 
ever  have  thought  of  meeting  you  here  ?  " 

He  laughed  and  replied  :  "I  came  with  a  purpose. 

You  remember  Miss ,  to  whom  I  was  engaged 

in  Sydney  ? " 

Chester   nodded,    expecting    from    the   sparkle   in 

S 's  dark  brown  eye  that  he  was  going  to  hear  a 

little  gush  about  her  many  wifely  qualities. 

"  Well,  I  was  in  Sydney  three  times  after  I  saw 
you.  We  were  to  be  married  as  soon  as  I  got  a 
command.  Two  years  ago  I  was  there  last.  She 
had  got  married.  Wrote  me  a  letter  saying  she 
knew  my  calmer  judgment  would  finally  triumph 
over  my  anger — she  had  accepted  a  good  offer,  and 
although  I  might  be  nettled,  perhaps,  at  first,  yet  she 
was  sure  my  good  sense  would  applaud  her  decision 
267 


268  In  Noumea. 

in  marrying  a  man  who,  although  she  could  never 
love  him  as  she  loved  me,  v^zs,  very  rich.  But  she 
w^ould  always  look  forward  to  meeting  me  again. 
That  was  all." 

"Hard  lines,"  said  Chester. 

*'My  dear  boy,  I  thought  that  at  first,  when  her 
letter  knocked  me  flat  aback.  But  I  got  over  it,  and 
I  swore  I  would  pay  her  out.  And  I  came  to  this 
den  of  convicts  to  do  it,  and  I  did  it — yesterday.  She 
is  here." 

^'■HereP''  said  Chester. 

And   then  he  learnt  the  rest  of  Captain  S 's 

story.  A  year  after  his  lady-love  had  jilted  him  he 
received  a  letter  from  her  in  England.  She  was  in 
sad  trouble,  she  said.  Her  husband,  a  Victorian 
official,  was  serving  five  years  for  embezzlement. 
Her  letter  was  suggestive  of  a  desire  to  hasten  to  the 
"  protection "  of  her  sailor  lover.  She  wished,  she 
said,  that  her  husband  were  dead.  But  dead  or  alive 
she  would  always  hate  him. 

S merely   acknowledged    her   letter   and  sent 

her  ;^25.  In  another  six  months  he  got  a  letter  from 
Fiji.  She  was  a  governess  there,  she  said,  at  ^75  a 
year.     Much  contrition  and  love,  also,  in  this  letter. 

S sent  another  ^^25,  and  remarked  that  he  would 

see  her  soon.  Fate  one  day  sent  him  to  take  com- 
mand of  a  steamer  in  Calcutta  bound  to  Fiji  with 
coolies,  thence  to  Noumea  to  load  nickel  ore.     And 

all  the  way  out  across  the  tropics  S 's  heart  was 

leaping  at  the  thought  of  seeing  his  lost  love — 
and  telling  her  that  he  hated  her  for  her  black  frozen 
treachery. 

As  soon  as  he  had  landed  his  coolies  he  cautiously 


In  Noumea.  269 

set  about  discovering  the  family  with  whom  she 
lived.  No  one  could  help  him,  but  a  planter  ex- 
plained matters  :  "  I  know  the  lady  for  whom  you 
inquire,  but  she  doesn't  go  by  that  name.     Ask  any 

one  about  Miss ,  the  barmaid.     She  has  gone  to 

New  Caledonia." 

He  asked,  and  learned  that  she  was  well  known  j 

and  S wondered  why  she  had  brought  her  beauty 

to  such  a  climate  as  that  of  Fiji  when  it  would  have 
paid  her  so  much  better  to  parade  it  in  Melbourne. 

The  evening  of  the  day  on  which  his  steamer 
arrived  at  Noumea  a  man  brought  him  a  letter.  He 
showed  it  to  Chester. 

My  darling  Will, — Thank  God  you  have  come, 
for  surely  you  have  come  for  me — my  heart  tells  me 
so.  For  God's  sake  wait  on  board  for  me.  I  will 
come  at  eight.  To  live  in  this  place  is  breaking  my 
heart.     Ever  yours, 

She  came.  He  stood  her  kisses  passively,  but  gave 
none  in  return,  until  she  asked  him  to  kiss  her. 
"  When  you  are  my  wife,"  he  said,  evasively.  And 
then — she  must  have  loved  him — she  burst  out  into 
passionate  sobs  and  fell  at  his  feet  in  the  quiet  cabin 
and  told  him  of  her  debased  life  in  Fiji.  "  But,  as 
God  hears  me.  Will,  that  is  all  past  since  your  last 
letter.  I  was  mad.  I  loved  money  and  did  not  care 
how  I  got  it.  I  left  Fiji  to  come  here,  intending  to 
return  to  Australia.  But,  Will,  dear  Will,  if  it  is 
only  to  throw  me  overboard,  take  me  away  from  this 
hell  upon  earth.  For  your  sake.  Will,  I  have  resisted 
them   here,  although  I   suffer  daily,  hourly,  torture 


270  In  Noumea. 

and  insult.  I  have  no  money,  and  I  am  afraid  to  die 
and  end  my  sufferings." 

Captain  S ,  speaking  calmly  and  slowly,  placed 

money  in  her  hand  and  said,  "  You  must  not  see  me 
again  till  the  day  I  am  ready  for  sea.  Then  bring 
your  luggage  and  come  on  board." 

With  a  smothered  sob  bursting  from  her,  despite 
the  joy  in  her  heart,  the  woman  turned  and  left  him. 

Then  S went  up  to  the  Cafe  Palais  and  played 

billiards  with  a  steady  hand. 

•  •  •  •  • 

There  was  a  great  number  of  people  on  board  to 

see  Captain    S away.       Presently   a   boat    came 

alongside,  and  a  young  lady  with  sweet  red  lips  and 
shiny  hair  ascended  to  the  deck. 

"  Helas  !  "  said  a  French  officer  to  S ,  "  and  so 

you  are  taking  away  the  fair  one  who  won't  look  at 
us  poor  exiles  of  Nouvelle." 

With  a  timid  smile  and  fast-beating  heart  the 
woman  gained  the  quarter-deck.  In  front  of  her 
stood    the    broad-shouldered,    well-groomed    Captain 

S ,  cold,  impassive,  and  deadly  pale,  with  a  cruel 

joy  in  his  breast. 

The  woman  stood  still.  There  was  something 
so  appalling  in  that  set  white  face  before  her,  that 
her  slight  frame  quivered  with  an  unknown  dread. 
And  then  the  captain  spoke,  in  slow,  measured  words 
that  cut  her  to  her  inmost  soul. 

*'  Madam,  I  do  not  take  passengers  !  " 

No  answer.  Only  short,  gasping  breaths  as  she 
steadied  her  hand  on  the  rail. 

And  then,  turning  to  one  of  the  Frenchmen : 
"M. ,  will  you  request  this — this  lady  to  go  on 


In  Noumea.  271 

shore  ?  She  is  known  to  me  as  a  woman  of  infamous 
reputation  in  Fiji.  I  cannot  for  a  moment  entertain 
the  idea  of  having  such  a  person  on  board  my 
ship." 

Before  the  shuddering  creature  fell  a  man  caught 
her,  and  then  she  was  placed  in  the  boat  and  taken 
ashore.     Of  course  some  of  the  Frenchmen  thought 

it  right  to  demand  an  explanation  from  S ,  who 

said — 

"  I've  none  to  give,  gentlemen.  If  any  of  you 
want  to  fight  me,  well  and  good,  although  I  don't 
like  quarrelling  over  a  pavement-woman.  Besides,  I 
rather  think  you'll  find  that  the  lady  will  now  be  quite 
an  acquisition  to  you." 

But  S 's  revenge  was  not  complete.     He  had 

previously  arranged  matters  with  his  engineer,  who 
presently  came  along  and  announced  an  accident  to 
the  machinery — the  steamer  would  be  delayed  a  couple 
of  days.  He  wanted  to  see  her  again — so  he  told 
Chester. 

"  It  was  a  cruel  thing,"  said  his  friend. 

«  Bah  !  "  said  S ,  "come  with  me." 

In  the  crowded  bar  of  the  cafe  a  woman  was 
laughing  and  talking  gaily.  Something  made  her 
look  up.  She  put  her  hand  to  her  eyes  and  walked 
slowly  from  the  room. 

As  the  two  Engli-hmen  walked  slowly  down  to  the 

wharf  the  handsome  Captain  S whistled  cheerily, 

and  asked  Chester  on  board  to  hear  him  and  his 
steward  play  violin  and  piccolo. 

"By  God,  S ,"  said   Chester,  "  you  have   no 

heart  !  " 

"  Right  you  are,  my  lad.     She  made  it  into  stone. 


272  In  Noumea. 

But  it  won't  hurt  her  as  it  did  me.  You  see,  these 
Frenchmen  here  pay  well  for  new  beauty  j  and 
women  love  money — which  is  a  lucky  thing  for  many 
men." 


THE  FEAST  AT  PENTECOST 


19 


The  Feast  at  Pentecost* 

There  was  a  row  in  the  fo'c's'le  of  the  ^een  Caro- 
line^ barque,  of  Sydney,  and  the  hands  were  discussing 
ways  and  means  upon  two  subjects — making  the 
skipper  give  them  their  usual  allowance  of  rum,  or 
killing  him,  burning  the  ship,  and  clearing  out  and 
living  among  the  natives. 

Half  of  the  crew  were  white,  the  others  were 
Maories,  Line  Islanders,  and  Hawaiians.  The  white 
men  wanted  the  coloured  ones  to  knock  the  skipper 
and  two  mates  on  the  head,  while  they  slept.  The 
natives  declined — but  they  were  quite  agreeable  to 
run  away  on  shore  with  their  messmates. 

The  barque  was  at  anchor  at  one  of  the  New 
Hebrides.  She  was  a  "  sandal wooder,"  and  the  cap- 
tain, Fordham,  was,  if  possible,  a  greater  rascal  than 
any  one  else  on  board.  He  had  bargained  with  the 
chief  of  the  island  for  leave  to  send  his  crew  ashore 
and  cut  sandalwood,  and  on  the  first  day  four  boat- 
loads were  brought  off,  whereupon  Fordham  cursed 
their  laziness.  One,  an  ex-Hobart  Town  convict, 
having  "talked  back,"  Fordham  and  the  mate  tied 
him   up  to  the  pumps    and    gave  him    three  dozen. 

275 


276  The  Feast  at  Pentecost. 

Next  day  he  started  the  boats  away  during  fierce 
rain-squalls,  and  told  the  men  that  if  they  didn't  bring 
plenty  of  wood  he  would  "  haze  "  them  properly. 

At  dusk  they  returned  and  brought  word  that  they 
had  a  lot  of  wood  cut,  but  had  left  it  ashore  as  the 
natives  would  lend  them  no  assistance  to  load  the 
boats. 

The  spokesman  on  this  occasion  was  a  big  Maori 
from  the  Bay  of  Islands.  Fordham  gave  him  three 
dozen  and  put  him  in  irons.  Then  he  told  the  men 
they  would  get  no  supper  till  the  wood  was  in  the 
barque's  hold — and  he  also  stopped  their  grog. 

"  Well,"  said  the  captain,  eyeing  them  savagely, 
"  what  is  it  going  to  be  ?  Are  you  going  to  get  that 
wood  ofF  or  not  ?  " 

"  It's  too  dark,"  said  one  ;  **  and,  anyway,  we  want 
our  supper  and  grog  first." 

Fordham  made  a  step  towards  him,  when  the  whole 
lot  bolted  below. 

"  They'll  turn-to  early  enough  to-morrow,"  said  he, 
grimly,  *'  when  they  find  there's  no  breakfast  for  'em 
until  that  wood's  on  deck."  Then  he  went  below  to 
drink  rum  with  his  two  mates,  remarking  to  his  first 
officer :  "  You  mark  my  words,  Colliss,  we're  going 
to  have  a  roasting  hot  time  of  it  with  them  fellows 
here  at  Pentecost !  " 

•  •  •  •  • 

At  daylight  next  morning  the  matCj  who  was  less 
of  a  brute  than  the  skipper,  managed  to  get  some  rum 
and  biscuit  down  into  the  fo'c's'le  ;  then  they  turned-to 
and  manned  the  boats.  At  noon  the  second  mate, 
who  was  in  charge  of  the  cutting  party,  signalled 
from  the  shore  that  something  was  wrong. 


The  Feast  at  Pentecost.  277 

On  Fordham  reaching  the  shore  the  second  mate 
told  him  that  all  the  native  crew  had  run  ofF  into  the 
bush. 

The  chief  of  the  island  was  sent  for,  and  Fordham 
told  him  to  catch  the  runaways — fourteen  in  number 
— promising  seven  muskets  in  return.  The  white 
crew  were  working  close  by  in  sullen  silence.  They 
grinned  when  they  heard  the  chief  say  it  would  be 
difficult  to  capture  the  men ;  they  were  natives,  he 
remarked — if  they  were  white  men  it  would  be  easy 
enough.  But  he  would  try  if  the  captain  helped 
him. 


An  hour  afterwards  the  chief  was  in  the  bush, 
talking  to  the  deserters,  and  taking  in  an  account  of 
the  vast  amount  of  trade  lying  on  board  the  barque. 

"See,"  said  he,  to  the  only  man  among  them  who 
spoke  his  dialect — a  Fijian  half-caste  from  Loma-loma 
— "  this  is  my  scheme.  The  captain  of  the  ship  and 
those  that  come  with  him  will  I  entice  into  the 
bush  and  kill  them  one  by  one,  for  the  path  is 
narrow " 

"  Good,"  said  Sam  the  half-caste,  "  and  then  ten  of 
us,  with  our  hands  loosely  tied,  will  be  taken  off  to  the 
ship  by  two  score  of  your  men,  who  will  tell  the  mate 
that  the  captain  has  caught  ten  of  us,  and  has  gone  to 
seek  the  other  four.     Then  will  the  ship  be  ours." 

•  •  •  •  • 

"  Halloa  ! "  said  the  mate  of  the  barque  to  the 
carpenter,  "  here's  a  thundering  big  crowd  of  niggers 
coming  ofF  in  our  two  boats,  and  none  of  our  white 
chaps  with  'em.     Stand    by,   you  chaps,  with   your 


278 


The  Feast  at  Pentecost. 


muskets.  I  ain't  going  to  let  all  that  crowd  aboard 
with  only  six  men  in  the  ship." 

The  men  left  on  board  watched  the  progress  of  the 
two  boats  as  they  were  pulled  quickly  towards  the  ship. 
They  hardly  apprehended  any  attempt  at  cutting-ofF, 
as  from  the  ship  they  could  discern  the  figures  of  some 
of  their  shipmates  on  shore  stacking  the  sandalwood 
on  a  ledge  of  rock,  handy  for  shipping  in  the  boats. 

"  It's  all  right,"  called  out  the  mate  presently,  "  the 
niggers  have  collared  some  of  our  native  chaps.  I  can 
see  that  yaller-hided  Fiji  Sam  sitting  aft  with  his  hands 
lashed  behind  him.     Let  'em  come  alongside." 

"  Cap'en  been  catch  him  ten  men,"  said  the  native 
in  charge  to  the  mate,  ''  he  go  look  now  find  him 
other  fellow  four  men.  He  tell  me  you  give  me  two 
bottle  rum,  some  tobacco,  some  biscuit." 

"  Right  you  are,  you  man-catching  old  cannibal," 
said  the  mate,  jocosely,  "come  below."  As  the  mate 
went  below  with  the  native  at  his  heels,  the  latter 
made  a  quick  sign  by  a  backward  move  of  his  arm. 
In  an  instant  the  ten  apparently-bound  men  had  sprung 
to  their  feet,  and  with  their  pseudo-captors,  flung 
themselves  upon  the  five  men.  The  wild  cry  of 
alarm  reached  the  mate  in  the  cabin.  He  darted  up, 
and  as  he  reached  the  deck  a  tomahawk  crashed  into 
his  brain. 

No  need  to  tell  the  tale  of  the  savage  butchery  on 
deck  in  all  its  details.  Not  one  of  the  men  had  time 
to  even  fire  a  shot — they  went  down  so  quickly 
under  the  knives  and  tomahawks  of  the  fifty  men  who 
struggled  and  strove  with  one  another  to  strike  the 
first  blow.     One  man,  indeed,  succeeded  in  reaching 


The  Feast  at  Pentecost.  279 

the  main  rigging,  but  ere  he  had  gained  ten  feet  he 
was  stabbed  and  chopped  in  half-a-dozen  places. 

And  then,  as  the  remaining  members  of  the  crew 
sat  "spelling"  in  the  jungle,  and  waiting  for  the 
skipper's  return,  there  came  a  sudden,  swift  rush  of 
dark,  naked  forms  upon  them.  Then  gasping  groans 
and  silence. 

There  were  many  oven-fires  lit  that  night  and  the 
following  day ;  and  although  the  former  shipmates  of 
the  "  long,  baked  pigs  "  were  present  by  the  invitation 
of  the  chief,  their  uncultivated  tastes  were  satisfied 
with  such  simple  things  as  breadfruit  and  yams. 

That  was  the  "  wiping-out  "  of  the  ^een  Caroline 
at  Pentecost,  and  the  fulfilment  of  the  unconscious 
prophecy  of  Captain  Fordham  to  his  mate. 


AN  HONOUR  TO  THE  SERVICE 


An  Honour  to  the  Service, 

The  Honourable  Captain  Stanley  W believed  in 

flogging,  and  during  the  three  years'  cruise  of  the 
frigate  in  the  South  Pacific  he  had  taken  several 
opportunities  of  expressing  this  belief  upon  the  blue- 
jackets of  his  ship  by  practical  illustrations  of  his 
hobby.  He  was,  however — in  his  own  opinion — a 
most  humane  man,  and  was  always  ready  to  give  a 
dozen  less  if  Dr.  Cartwright  suggested,  for  instance, 
that  Jenkins  or  Jones  hadn't  quite  got  over  his  last 
tricing  up,  and  could  hardly  stand  another  dozen  so 
soon.  And  the  chaplain  of  the  frigate,  when  dining 
with  the  Honourable  Stanley,  would  often  sigh  and 
shake  his  head  and  agree  with  the  captain  that  the 
proposed  abolition  of  flogging  in  the  British  Navy 
would  do  much  to  destroy  its  discipline  and  loosen  the 
feelings  of  personal  attachment  between  officers  and 
men,  and  then  murmur  something  complimentary 
about  his  Majesty's  ship  Pleiades  being  one  of  the 
very  few  ships  in  the  Service  whose  captain  still  main- 
tained so  ancient  and  honoured  a  custom,  the  dis- 
continuance of  which  could  only  be  advocated  by 
common,  illiterate  persons — such  as  the  blue-jackets 
themselves. 


383 


284  A^  Honour  to  the  Service. 

The  frigate  was  on  her  way  from  Valparaiso  to 
Sydney — it  was  in  the  days  of  Governor  BHgh — and 
for  nearly  three  weeks  had  been  passing  amongst  the 
low-lying  coral  islands  of  the  Paumotu  or  Low  Archi- 
pelago, when  one  afternoon  in  May,  182-  she  lay 
becalmed  off  the  little  island  of  Vairaatea.  The  sea 
was  as  smooth  as  glass,  and  only  the  gentlest  ocean 
swell  rose  and  fell  over  the  flat  surface  of  the  coral 
reef.  In  those  days  almost  nothing  was  known  of  the 
people  of  the  Paumotu  Group  except  that  they  were  a 
fierce  and  warlike  race  and  excessively  shy  of  white 
strangers.     Standing    on    his    quarter-deck    Captain 

W could  with  his  glass  see  that  there  were  but 

a  few  houses  on  the  island — perhaps  ten — and  as  the 
frigate  had  been  nearly  six  weeks  out  from  Valparaiso, 
and  ofiicers  in  the  navy  did  not  live  as  luxuriously 
then  as  now,  he  decided  to  send  a  boat  ashore  and  buy 
some  turtle  from  the  natives. 

"  If  you  can  buy  a  few  thousand  cocoanuts  as  well, 
do  so,  Mr.  T.,"  said  the  captain, ''  and  I'll  send  another 
boat  later  on." 

•  •  •  •  • 

The  boat's  crew  was  well  armed,  and  in  command 
of  the  second  lieutenant.  Among  them  was  a  man 
named  Hallam,  a  boatswain's  mate,  a  dark-faced,  surly 
brute  of  about  fifty.  He  was  hated  by  nearly  every 
one  on  board,  but  as  he  was  a  splendid  seaman  and 
rigidly  exact  in  the  performance  of  his  duties,  he  was 
an  especial  favourite  of  the  captain's,  who  was  never 
tired  of  extolling  his  abilities  and  sobriety,  and  hold- 
ing him  up  as  an  example  of  a  British  seaman  :  and 
Hallam,  like  his  captain,  was  a  firm  believer  in  the  cat. 


An  Honour  to  the  Service,  285 

On  pulling  in  to  the  beach  about  a  dozen  light- 
skinned  natives  met  them.  They  were  all  armed 
with  clubs  and  spears,  but  at  a  sign  from  one  who 
seemed  to  be  their  chief  they  laid  them  down  All — 
the  chief  as  well — were  naked,  save  for  a  girdle  of  long 
grass  round  their  loins. 

Their  leader  advanced  to  Lieutenant  T as  he 

stepped  out  of  the  boat,  and  holding  out  his  hand 
said,  "  Good  mornin'.     What  you  want  ?  " 

Pleased  at  finding  a  man  who  spoke  English,  the 
lieutenant  told  him  he  had  come  to  buy  some  turtle 
and  get  a  boatload  of  young  cocoanuts,  and  showed 
him  the  tobacco  and  knives  intended  for  payment. 

The  chief's  eyes  glistened  at  the  tobacco ;  the 
others,  who  did  not  know  its  use,  turned  away  in 
indifference,  but  eagerly  handled  the  knives. 

All  this  time  the  chiePs  eyes  kept  wandering  to  the 
face  of  Hallam,  the  boatswain's  mate,  whose  every 
movement  he  followed  with  a  curious,  wistful  ex- 
pression. Suddenly  he  turned  to  the  lieutenant  and 
said,  in  curious  broken  English,  that  cocoanuts  were 
easily  to  be  obtained,  but  turtle  were  more  difficult ; 
yet  if  the  ship  would  wait  he  would  promise  to  get 
them  as  many  as  were  wanted  by  daylight  next 
morning. 

"  All  right,"  said  Lieutenant  T ,  "  bear  a  hand 

with  the  cocoanuts  now,  and  I'll  tell  the  captain  what 
you  say " ;  and  then  to  Hallam,  "  If  this  calm  keeps 
up,  Hallam,  I'm  afraid  the  ship  will  either  have  to 
anchor  or  tow  oiF  the  land — she's  drifting  in  fast." 

In  an  hour  the  boat  was  filled  with  cocoanuts,  and 
Lieutenant  T sent  her  ofF  to  the  ship  with  a 


286  An  Honour  to  the  Service. 

note  to  the  captain,  remaining  himself  with  Hallam, 
another  leading  seaman  named  Lacy,  and  five  blue- 
jackets. Presently  the  chief,  in  his  strange,  halting 
English,  asked  the  officer  to  come  to  his  house  and 
sit  down  and  rest  while  his  wife  prepared  food  for 
him.  And  as  they  walked  the  native's  eyes  still 
sought  the  face  of  Hallam  the  boatswain. 

His  wife  was  a  slender,  graceful  girl,  and  her 
modest,  gentle  demeanour  as  she  waited  upon  her 
husband  himself  impressed  the  Heutenant  considerably. 

"  Where  did  you  learn  to  speak  English  ? "  the 
officer  asked  his  host  after  they  had  finished. 

He  answered  slowly,  "  I  been  sailor  man  American 
whaleship  two  year  ;  "  and  then,  pointing  to  a  roll  of 
soft  mats,  said,  "  You  like  sleep,  you  sleep.  Me  like 
go  talk  your  sailor  man." 

•  •  •  •  • 

Hallam,  morose  and  gloomy,  had  left  the  others, 
and  was  sitting  under  the  shade  of  a  toa-tree,  when 
he  heard  the  sound  of  a  footstep,  and  looking  up  saw 
the  dark-brown,  muscular  figure  of  the  native  chief 
beside  him. 

"  Well,"  he  said,  surlily,  "  what  the  h do  you 

want  ? " 

The  man  made  him  no  answer — only  looked  at 
him  with  a  strange,  eager  light  of  expectancy  in  his 
eyes,  and  his  lips  twitched  nervously,  but  no  sound 
issued  from  them.  For  a  moment  the  rude,  scowling 
face  of  the  old  seaman  seemed  to  daunt  him.  Then, 
with  a  curious  choking  sound  in  his  throat,  he  sprang 
forward  and  touched  the  other  man  on  the  arm. 

"  Father  !     Don't  you  know  me  ?  " 

With  trembling  hands  and  blanched  face  the  old 


An  Honour  to  the  Service.  287 

man  rose  to  his  feet,  and  in  a  hoarse  whisper  there 
escaped  from  his  lips  a  name  that  he  had  long  years 
ago  cursed  and  forgotten.  His  hands  opened  and  shut 
again  convulsively,  and  then  his  savage,  vindictive 
nature  asserted  itself  again  as  he  found  his  voice,  and 
with  the  rasping  accents  of  passion  poured  out  curses^ 
upon  the  brown,  half-naked  man  that  stood  before 
him.  Then  he  turned  to  go.  But  the  other  man 
put  out  a  detaining  hand. 

•  •  •  •  • 

"It  is  as  you  say.  I  am  a  disgraced  man.  But 
you  haven't  heard  why  I  deserted  from  the  Tagus. 
Listen  while  I  tell  you.  I  was  flogged.  I  was  only 
a  boy,  and  it  broke  my  heart." 

"  Curse  you,  you  chicken-hearted  sweep  !  I've  laid 
the  cat  on  the  back  of  many  a  better  man  than 
myself,  and  none  of  'em  ever  disgraced  themselves  by 
runnin'  away  and  turnin'  into  a  nigger,  like  you  ! " 

The  man  heard  the  sneer  with  unmoved  face,  then 
resumed — 

"  It  broke  my  heart.  And  when  I  was  hiding  in 
Dover,  and  my  mother  used  to  come  and  dress  my 
wounds,  do  you  remember  what  happened  ?  " 

"  Aye,  you  naked  swab,  I  do  :  your  father  kicked 
you  out ! " 

"  And  I  got  caught  again,  and  put  in  irons,  and  got 
more  cat.  Two  years  afterwards  I  cleared  again  in 
Sydney,  from  the  Sirius.  .  .  .  And  I  came  here  to  live 
and  die  among  savages.  That's  nigh  on  eight  years 
ago" 

•  •  •  •  • 

There  was  a  brief  silence.     The  old  man,  with 


288  An  Honour  to  the  Service. 


fierce,  scornful  eyes,  looked  sneeringly  at  the  wild 
figure  of  the  broken  wanderer,  and  then  said — 

"What's  to  stop  me  from  telling  our  lieutenant 
you're  a  deserter  ?  I  would,  too,  by  God,  only  I 
don't  want  my  shipmates  to  know  I've  got  a  nigger 
for  a  son." 

The  gibe  passed  unheeded,  save  for  a  sudden  light 
that  leapt  into  the  eyes  of  the  younger  man,  then 
quickly  died  away. 

"  Let  us  part  in  peace,"  he  said.  *'  We  will  never 
meet  again.  Only  tell  me  one  thing — is  my  mother 
dead  ? " 

"Yes." 

"  Thank  God  for  that,"  he  murmured.  Then 
without  another  word  the  outcast  turned  away  and 
disappeared  among  the  cocoa-palms. 

•  .  »  .  • 

The  second  boat  from  the  Pleiades  brought  the 
captain,  and  as  he  and  the  lieutenant  stood  and  talked 
they  watched  the  natives  carrying  down  the  cocoa- 
nuts. 

"  Hurry  them  up,  Hallam,"  said  Lieutenant  T j 

"the  tide  is  falling  fast.     By  the  by,  where  is  that 
fellow  Lacy  ;  I  don't  see  him  about  ?  " 

As  he  spoke  a  woman's  shriek  came  from  the  chief's 
house,  which  stood  some  distance  apart  from  the  other 
houses,  and  a  tall  brown  man  sprang  out  from  among 
the  other  natives  about  the  boats  and  dashed  up  the 
pathway  to  the  village. 

"  Quick,  Hallam,  and  some  of  you  fellows,"  said 

Captain  W ,  "run  and  see  what's    the    matter. 

That  scoundrel.  Lacy,  I  suppose,  among  the  women," 
he  added,  with  a  laugh,  to  the  lieutenant. 


An  Honour  to  the  Service,  289 

The  two  officers  followed  the  men.  In  a  few 
minutes  they  came  upon  a  curious  scene.  Held  in 
the  strong  arms  of  two  stout  seamen  was  the  native 
chief,  whose  heaving  chest  and  working  features 
showed  him  to  be  under  some  violent  emotion.  On 
the  ground,  with  his  head  supported  by  a  shipmate, 
lay  Lacy,  with  blackened  and  distorted  face,  and 
breathing  stertorously.  Shaking  with  fear  and  weep- 
ing passionately  as  she  pressed  her  child  to  her  bosom, 
the  young  native  wife  looked  beseechingly  into  the 
faces  of  the  men  who  held  her  husband. 

"  What   is    the    meaning   of  this  ? "   said    Captain 

W 's  clear,  sharp  voice,  addressing  the  men  who 

held  the  chief. 

"  That  hound  there " — the  men  who  held  their 
prisoner  nearly  let  him  go  in  their  astonishment — 
"came  in  here.  She  was  alone.  Do  you  want  to 
know  more  ?     I  tried  to  kill  him." 

"  Let  him  loose,  men,"  and  Captain  W stepped 

up  to  the  prisoner  and  looked  closely  into  his  dark 
iace.  "Ah  !  I  thought  so — a  white  man.  What  is 
your  name  ?  " 

The  wanderer  bent  his  head,  then  raised  it,  and 
looked  for  an  instant  at  the  sullen  face  of  Hallam. 
•  •  •  •  • 

"  I  have  no  name,"  he  said. 

"  Humph,"  muttered  Captain  W to  his  lieu- 
tenant, "a  runaway  convict,  most  likely.  He  can't 
be  blamed,  though,  for  this  affair.  He's  a  perfect 
brute,  that  fellow  Lacy."  Then  to  the  strange  white 
man  he  turned  contemptuously  : 

"  I'm  sorry  this  man  assaulted  your  wife.     He  shall 
suffer  for  it  to-morrow.     At  the  same  time  I'm  sorry 
20 


290  An  Honour  to  the  Service. 

I  can't  tie  you  up  and  flog  you,  as  a  disgrace  to  your 
colour  and  country,  you  naked  savage." 

The  outcast  took  two  strides,  a  red  gleam  shone  in 
his  eyes,  and  his  voice  shook  w^ith  mad  passion. 

"  *  A  naked  savage '  ;  and  you  would  like  to  flog 
me.  It  was  a  brute  such  as  you  made  me  what  I  am," 
and  he  struck  the  captain  of  the  Pleiades  in  the  face 
with  his  clenched  hand. 


"We'll  have  to  punish  the  fellow,  T ,"  said 

Captain  W ,  as  with  his  handkerchief  to  his  lips 

he  staunched  the  flow  of  blood.  "  If  I  let  a  thing 
like  this  pass  his  native  friends  would  imagine  all  sorts 
of  things  and  probably  murder  any  unfortunate 
merchant  captain  that  may  touch  here  in  the  future. 
But,  as  Heaven  is  my  witness,  I  do  so  on  that  ground 
only — deserter  as  he  admits  himself  to  be.  Hurry  up 
that  fellow,  T ." 

"  That  fellow  "  was  Hallam,  who  had  been  sent  to 
the  boat  for  a  bit  of  line  suitable  for  the  purpose  in 
view.  His  florid  face  paled  somewhat  when  the  cox- 
swain jeeringly  asked  him  if  he  didn't  miss  his  green 
bag,  and  flung  him  an  old  pair  of  yoke-lines. 

The  business  of  flogging  was  not,  on  the  whole, 
unduly  hurried.  Although  "All  Hands  to  Witness 
Punishment"  was  not  piped,  every  native  on  the 
island,  some  seventy  or  so  all  told,  gathered  round  the 
cocoanut-tree  to  which  the  man  was  lashed,  and  at 
every  stroke  of  the  heavy  yoke-lines  they  shuddered. 
One,  a  woman  with  a  child  sitting  beside  her,  lay  face 


An  Honour  to  the  Service.  291 

to  the  ground,  and  as  each  cruel  swish  and  thud  fell  on 
her  ear  the  savage  creature  wept. 

**  That's  enough,   Hallam,"  said  Captain  W ^ 

somewhat  moved  by  the  tears  and  bursting  sobs  of 
the  pitying  natives,  who,  when  they  saw  the  great 
blue  weals  on  the  brown  back  swell  and  black  drops 
burst  out,  sought  to  break  in  through  the  cordon  of 
blue  jackets. 

•  •  •  •  • 

Clustering  around  him,  the  brown  people  sought  to 
lift  him  in  their  arms  and  carry  him  to  his  house  ;  but 
his  strength  was  not  all  gone,  and  he  thrust  them 
aside.     Then  he  spoke,  and  even  the  cold,  passionless 

Captain  W felt  his  face   flush  at  the   burning 

words : 

*'  For  seven  years,  lads,  I've  lived  here,  a  naked 
savage,  as  your  captain  called  me.  I  had  a  heavy 
disgrace  once,  an'  it  just  broke  my  heart  like — I  was 
flogged — and  I  wanted  to  hide  myself  out  of  the 
world.  Seven  years  it  is  since  I  saw  a  white  man, 
an'  I've  almost  forgotten  I  was  z  white  man  once ; 
an'  now  because  I  tried  to  choke  a  hound  that  wanted 
to  injure  the  only  being  in  the  world  I  have  to  love, 
I'm  tied  up  and  lashed  like  a  dog — by  my  own  father  ! 

The  island  was  just  sinking  below  the  horizon 
when  the  burly  figure  of  boatswain's  mate  Hallam 
was  seen  to  disappear  suddenly  over  the  bows,  where 
he  had  been  standing. 

•  •  •  •  • 

"A  very  regrettable  occurrence,"  said  Captain 
W ,  pompously,  to  the  chaplain  when  the  boats 


292  An  Honour  to  the  Service. 

returned  from  the  search.  "  No  doubt  the  horror  of 
seeing  his  only  son  a  disgraced  fugitive  and  severed 
from  all  decent  associations  preyed  upon  his  mind  and 
led  him  to  commit  suicide.  Such  men  as  Hallam, 
humble  as  was  his  position,  are  an  Honour  to  the 
Service.  I  shall  always  remember  him  as  a  very 
zealous  seaman." 

"Particularly  with  the  cat,"  murmured  Lieutenant 
T 


[.  B.  LIPPINCOTT  COMPANY'S 
PUBLICATIONS  BY 
POPULAR  AUTHORS. 


BY 

Anne  Hollingsworth  Wharton. 


Through  Colonial  Doorways. 

With  a  number  of  colonial  illustrations  from  drawings  specially  made 
for  the  work.     i2mo.     Cloth,  $1.25. 

"  It  is  a  pleasant  retrospect  of  fashionable  New  York  and  Philadelphia 
society  diiring  and  immediately  following  the  Revolution ;  for  there  was  a  Four 
Hundred  even  in  those  days,  and  some  of  them  were  Whigs  and  some  were 
Tories,  but  all  enjoyed  feasting  and  dancing,  of  which  there  seemed  to  be  no 
limit.  And  this  little  book  tells  us  about  the  belles  of  the  Philadelphia  meschi- 
anza,  who  they  were,  how  they  dressed,  and  how  they  flirted  with  Major  Andr6 
and  other  oflScers  in  Sir  William  Howe's  wicked  employ." — Philadelphia  Record. 


Colonial  Days  and  Dames. 

With  numerous  illustrations.     i2mo.     Cloth,  ^1.25. 

"  In  less  skilful  hands  than  those  of  Anne  Hollingsworth  Wharton's,  these 
scraps  of  reminiscences  from  diaries  and  letters  would  prove  but  dry  bones.  But 
she  has  made  them  so  charming  that  it  is  as  if  she  had  taken  dried  roses  from  an 
old  album  and  freshened  them  into  bloom  and  perfume.  £ach  slight  paragraph 
from  a  letter  is  framed  in  historical  sketches  of  local  affairs  or  with  some  account 
of  the  people  who  knew  the  letter  writers,  or  were  at  least  of  their  date,  and  there 
are  pretty  suggestions  as  to  how  and  why  such  letters  were  written,  with  hints  of 
love  affairs,  which  lend  a  rose-colored  veil  to  what  were  probably  every-day 
matters  in  colonial  families." — Pittsburg  Bulletin. 


For  sale  by  all  Booksellers,  or  will  be  sent,  post-paid,  upon  receipt  of  price, 

J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT  COMPANY,  Publishers, 

PHILADELPHIA. 


MISS  CAREY'S  STORIES 
FOR  GIRLS. 

LITTLE  MISS  MUFFET. 
COUSIN  MONA. 

i2mo.     Cloth,  illustrated,  ^1.25  per  volume. 

The  two  above  volumes,  in  box,  ^2.50. 

"With  great  descriptive  power,  considerable  and  often  quiet  fim, 
there  is  a  delicacy  and  tenderness,  a  knowledge  and  strength  of 
purpose,  combined  with  so  much  fertility  of  resovuce  and  originality 
that  the  interest  never  flags,  and  the  sensation  on  putting  down  any 
of  her  works  is  that  of  having  dwelt  in  a  thoroughly  healthy  atmos- 
phere. 

MERLE'S  CRUSADE. 
AUNT  DIANA.  ESTHER. 

OUR  BESSIE.  AVERIL. 

I2mo.     Cloth,  ;55l.25  per  volume. 

Five  volumes,  uniform  binding,  in  neat  box,  $6.25. 

"  Miss  Rosa  Nouchette  Carey  has  achieved  an  enviable  reputation 
as  a  writer  of  tales  of  a  restful  and  quiet  kind.  They  tell  pleasant 
stories  of  agreeable  people,  are  never  sensational,  and  have  a  genuine 
moral  purpose  and  helpful  tone,  without  being  aggressively  didactic 
or  distinctly  religious  in  character." — N.  Y.  Christian  Union. 


For  sale  by  all  Booksellers,  or  -will  be  sent,  post-paid,  upon  receipt  of  price, 

J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT  COMPANY,  Publishers, 
PHILADELPHIA. 


Authors  and  Their  Works. 


MRS.  A.   L.  WISTER. 


Translations  from  the  German. 

$1.00  per  volume. 


Countess  Erika*s  Apprenticeship.    By  Ossip  Schubin. 
"O  Thou,  My  Austria  I"    By  Ossip  Schubin. 
Erlach  Court.     By  Ossip  Schubin. 
The  Alpine  Fay.    By  E.  Werner. 

The  Owl's  Nest.    By  E.  Marlitt. 

¥        Picked  Up  in  the  Streets.    By  H.  Schobert 
5aint  Michael.    By  B.  Werner. 
Violetta.    By  Ursula  Zoge  von  ManteufeL 
The  Lady  with  the  Rubies.    By  E.  Marlitt. 
Vain  Forebodings.    By  E.  Oswald. 
A  Penniless  Qirl.     By  W.  Heimburg. 
Quicksands.     By  Adolph  Streckfuss. 

Countess  Gisela.    By  E.  Marlitt 
^        At  the  Councillor's.    By  E.  Marlitt 
^        The  Second  Wife.    By  E.  Marlitt 

The  Old  Mam'selle's  Secret.    By  E.  Marlitt 
Gold  Elsie.     By  E.  Marlitt 
The  Little  Moorland  Princess.    By  E.  Marlitt 
Banned  and  Blessed.    By  E.  Werner. 
A  Noble  Name.    By  Claire  von  Gliimer. 


Authors  and  Their  Works. 


MRS.  WISTER'S  TRANSLATIONS. 

Continued. 

From  Hand  to  Hand.    By  Golo  Raimund. 

Severa.    By  %.  Hartner. 

A  New  Race.     By  Golo  Raimund. 

The  Eichhofs.    By  Moritz  von  Reichenbach. 

Castle  Hohenwald.    By  Adolph  Streckfuss. 

Margarethe.    By  E.  Juncker. 

Too  Rich.    By  Adolph  Streckfuss. 

A  Family  Feud.    By  Ludwig  Harder. 

The  Qreen  Qate.    By  Ernst  Wichert 
Only  a  Girl.     By  Wilhelmine  von  Hillern. 
Why  Did  He  Not  Die.     By  Ad.  von  Volckhauser. 
Hulda.     By  Fanny  Lewald, 
The  Bailiff's  Maid.    By  E.  Marlitt. 
In  the  Schillingscourt.    By  E.  Marlitt. 


¥ 


"Mrs.  A.  L.  Wister,  through  her  many  translations  of  novels 
from  the  German,  has  established  a  reputation  of  the  highest  order 
for  literary  judgment,  and  for  a  long  time  her  name  upon  the  title- 
page  of  such  a  translation  has  been  a  sufficient  guarantee  to  the 
lovers  of  fiction  of  a  pure  and  elevating  character,  that  the  novel 
would  be  a  cherished  home  favorite.  This  faith  in  Mrs.  Wister  is 
fully  justified  by  the  fact  that  among  her  more  than  thirty  transla- 
tions that  have  been  published  by  I^ippincott's  there  has  not  been 
a  single  disappointment.  And  to  the  exquisite  judgment  of  selec- 
tion is  to  be  added  the  rare  excellence  of  her  translations,  which 
has  commanded  the  admiration  of  literary  and  linguistic  scholars." 
— Boston  Home  Journal. 


J.  B.  Lippincott  Company,  Philadelphia. 


Authors  and  Their  Works. 


"THE  DUCHESS." 


Peter's  Wife. 


lAdy  Patty. 


A  Little  Irish  Girl. 


Tlie  Hoyden. 

i2ino.    Paper,  so  cents ;  cloth,  $i.oo. 


Phyllis. 
Molly  Bawn. 
Airy  Fairy  Lilian. 
Beauty's  Daughters. 
Faith  and  Unfaith. 
Doris. 

"  O  Tender  Dolores." 
A  Maiden  All  Forlorn. 
In  Durance  Vile. 
The  Duchess. 
Marvel. 

Jerry,  and  other  Stories. 
A  Life's 


Mrs.  Geoffrey. 

Portia. 

Loys,  Lord  Berresford,  and 

other  Stories. 
Rossmoyne. 
A  Mental  Struggle. 
Lady  Valworth's  Diamonds. 
Lady  Branksmere. 
A  Modern  Circe. 
The  Honourable  Mrs.  Vere- 

ker. 
Under°Currents. 
Remorse. 


Bound  only  in  Cloth,  ii.oo. 


"  'The  Duchess'  has  well  deserved  the  title  of  being  one  of  the 
most  fascinating  novelists  of  the  day.  The  stories  written  by  her 
are  the  airiest,  lightest,  and  brightest  imaginable  ;  full  of  wit, 
spirit,  and  gayety,  yet  containing  touches  of  the  most  exquisite 
pathos.  There  is  something  good  in  all  of  them." — London 
Academy, 


J.  B.  Lippincott  Company,  Philadelphia. 


Authors  and  Their  Works. 


Mrs.  H.  Lovett  Cameron. 


A  Tragic  Blunder. 

A  Daughter's  Heart.  A  Sister's  Sin. 

Jack's  Secret. 

j2mo.    Paper,  50  cents;  cloth,  $1.00. 


"Mrs.  Cameron's  novels,  'In  a  Grass  Country,'  'A  Daughter's 
Heart,'  'A  Sister's  Sin,'  'Jack's  Secret,'  have  shown  a  high  skill 
in  inventing  interesting  plots  and  delineating  character.  All  her 
stories  are  vivid  in  action  and  pure  in  tone.  This  one,  '  A  Tragic 
Blunder,'  is  equal  to  her  best." — National  Tribune. 


This  Wicked  World. 
In  a  Grass  Country.  A  Devout  Lover. 

Vera  Neville.  A  Life's  Mistake. 

Pure  Gold.  Worth  Winning. 

The  Cost  of  a  Lie.  A  Lost  Wife. 

Cloth,  $1.00. 


"The  works  of  this  author  are  always  pure  in  character,  and 
can  be  safely  put  into  the  hands  of  young  as  well  as  old." — Norris- 
town  Herald. 

"A  wide  circle  of  admirers  always  welcome  a  new  work  by  this 
favorite  author.  Her  style  is  pure  and  interesting,  and  she  depicts 
marvellously  well  the  daily  social  life  of  the  ^English  people."— 
St.  Louis  Republic. 


J.  B.  Lippincott  Company,  Philadelphia. 


Authors  and  Their  Works, 


JULIEN  QORDON. 


"Now  and  then,  to  prove  to  men— perhaps  also  to  prove  to 
themselves — what  they  can  do  if  they  dare  and  will,  one  of  these 
gifted  women  detaches  herself  from,  her  sisters,  enters  the  arena 
with  men,  to  fight  for  the  highest  prizes,  and  as  the  brave  Gotz 
says  of  Brother  Martin,  ^shames  many  a  knight.^  To  this  race 
of  conquerors  belongs  to-day  one  of  the  first  living  writers  of 
novels  and  romances,  fulien  Gordon." 

FRIED  RICH  SPIELHAGEN, 


Poppsea. 

A  Diplomat's  Diary. 
A  Successful  Man. 
Vampires,  and  Mademoiselle  Reseda. 

Two  stories  in  one  book. 
i2nio.    Cloth,  $i.oo  per  vol. 


"The  cleverness  and  lightness  of  touch  which  characterized 
'A  Diplomat's  Diary'  are  not  wanting  in  the  later  work  of  the 
American  lady  who  writes  under  the  pseudonyme  of  Julien  Gordon. 
In  her  former  story  the  dialogue  is  pointed  and  alert,  the  characters 
are  clear-cut  and  distinct,  and  the  descriptions  picturesque.  As 
for  the  main  idea  of  '  A  Successful  Man, '  the  intersection  of  two 
wholly  different  strata  of  American  life, — one  fast  and  fashionable, 
the  other  domestic  and  decorous, — it  is  worked  out  with  much  skill 
and  alertness  of  treatment  to  its  inevitably  tragic  issue." — N.  K 
World.  

J.  B.  Lippincott  Company,  Philadelphia. 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  .'BR 


A     000  143  665     8 


Phone.S1u!ri«anl138J 

I  SAMUEL  DAUBER 

GOOD  BOOKS 

I      -M  Reasonable  Prices 

( 83  Fourth  Ave.  HewVork 


DR     HENRY   aOLOMAN 
riNE   BOOKS 
7Q3   1-2   W.    6TM   ST. 
Los   ANOELCS 


